When The Bough Breaks
by MMB
Summary: Everybody has their breaking point — and Sydney has reached his.  NOW COMPLETE
1. Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

Chapter 1 - Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

It was late at night, and the ancillary personnel that worked in the Sim Lab by day had long since gone home. Sydney moved through the Sim Lab like a well-tailored, silver-haired ghost and turned the ambient light down to minimum before entering his office.

It was another night at the Centre — another night like so many others in many ways. And yet, this night was different. Sydney moved to sit down heavily behind his desk. He was here to retrieve very specific items — nothing more, and nothing less. He pulled out one of the side drawers and extracted from its depths a wooden box that he rarely ever touched. He set the box on the desk, closed the drawer and then took a deep breath before lifting the lid. The grey Smith & Wesson lay silent and lethal against the blue velveteen, the clip loaded and to the side. He'd been issued the weapon during the early days of the Centre, detested it even then, and put the box away where he'd rarely encounter it. He'd actually used it only once, in a futile assassination attempt. He lifted the piece from the box, slid the clip into the handle without chambering a round and then slipped it into his pocket.

With a sigh he set the now-empty gun box aside and then pulled open the lowest drawer to retrieve the metal box in which he kept his life's treasures. Of all the possessions that were scattered throughout the shelves and bookcases of the office, this box and its contents were the only things that held any real sentimental value to him. He didn't need to lift the lid to know what was inside — a hand-made Father's Day card that had been crumpled and thrown away and then carefully retrieved, a complicated piece of origami, a red plastic monkey. These were things that spoke of a relationship that had somehow managed to survive despite his best efforts to maintain distance and objectivity — and despite his longstanding betrayal of the person from whom he'd received each and every one of them.

He leaned his elbows on the desk ahead of him on either side of the box, and then leaned his chin into the palms of his hands while casting his gaze all about the room. His numerous diplomas and certificates of achievement hung in frames on the walls, and the bookcases were groaning with the burden of books on the human psyche and the nature of genius — a couple of them his own work. Yet, none of it meant more to him in real terms than the contents of that metal box. He had file cabinets filled with reports and essays and DSAs cataloguing decades of scrupulous research and note-taking — and yet his life's work, the real one, fit easily into the bottom of a 6 inch by 12 inch by 12 inch metal container.

It was a commentary of sorts on his life, he thought to himself in a fit of brutal honesty. A creature of science, he had come late to the understanding that the true meaning of life couldn't be weighed or measured or documented like a psychological experiment, but only experienced first-hand and then only remembered. The irony of it all, however, was that understanding the true nature behind all those experiences had forced him to face the truth about his own blindness, his own weakness, his own moral capitulation — and the true meaning of THAT as well. The one person from whom he desperately needed forgiveness had once more let him know in no uncertain terms that his actions, or lack of them, could never be forgiven. He'd spent a lifetime's work laying the pathway to his own private Hell one stone after another. The time had come for him to traverse that path — he'd put it off long enough.

He felt no real sadness as he opened the metal box and carefully moved the contents into his briefcase to take with him, away from this office with its diplomas and certificates and research documentation. He would not be coming back here again — and the only things that he couldn't bear to leave behind him for others to find and mock or destroy were that crumpled hand-drawn Father's Day card and the origami and the red plastic monkey. To them he would add a photograph to be collected from his home on the way out of town. They would be his only mementos of nearly forty years of life buried in this lab. They would be all the company he'd need on this last journey.

Of course the others would eventually know that he had left — Miss Parker was far more open to her inner voices than she let on, she would know that things had changed instantly when she came back on Monday. And she'd figure out it was a permanent change when she'd find his office empty with the empty metal box and the empty gun box sitting open on his desk. Broots would eventually figure it out when Miss Parker started searching for him and dragged her tech into the effort. But by then it would be too late. He hoped that his leaving would give Broots the incentive to pull himself free of the emotional and technical quagmire that was involvement with the Centre — but he really seriously doubted it would do much good. Broots would stubbornly remain blindly loyal to Miss Parker, no matter what, bound by a hopeless crush and a severe case of hero-worship — although Broots would never recognize it as such.

He understood some of that sentiment all too well. Once he'd figured out that Jarod was more than capable of maintaining his freedom with very little help from him, he too had stayed because of Miss Parker — bound by a sense of obligation to a long-ago promise. But the time had come to let even her go at long last. Her scathing brush-off that afternoon had convinced him of that. She had chosen the path her life was going to take, and it was not one he could share with her any longer. She had chosen to live with the lies and the deceptions — where he'd finally recognized them for what they were and chosen to walk away at long last. Jacob had long ago wanted him to take this step, even as Catherine had wanted to before her life's path had been chosen for her. In the end, Catherine had begged him to protect her little girl, and he'd done his best considering the circumstances — but that little girl now steadfastly refused to allow him any influence on her life at all. The time had come to leave her to her choices — before the consequences of those choices came home to roost. He couldn't bear to watch that happen, and he knew that the inevitable conclusion was unavoidable at this point.

His gaze brushed past the air conditioning vent and he gave a sad sigh. Angelo. There would be no goodbye on that front, and for a moment Sydney's resolve finally wavered in a moment of indecision. Despite their upbringings and the malignant tampering in their lives that the Centre had perpetuated on Jarod and Miss Parker, both as children and as adults, they had remained relatively sane, stable and functional people. Angelo, on the other hand, had been severely damaged early on and stood no chance whatsoever of surviving outside some sort of institutional setting. Sydney had often felt like Angelo was the third child that Heaven had put under his watch — and for him to just leave like this would be to betray that responsibility. It would be another betrayal in a life filled with them.

But the fact was that Angelo was as functional WITHIN the Centre as Miss Parker or Jarod were outside it — and with his knowledge of the heating, cooling and ventilation systems, he knew how to make himself scarce when he really needed to be. Besides, even if Sydney were to try to protect him, Angelo was officially Raines' project — authority for his disposition was in other hands than his. There was no way to adequately protect Angelo that would justify his remaining behind anymore — and even Angelo's ultimate fate would not be something that Sydney would want to witness. No, the tie to Angelo was simply not strong enough to hold him any longer — not with all the rest completely cut loose now. And the empathic little man would know what was going on and understand what was going through his mind and heart — to say goodbye would be redundant, if not painful for them both.

He snapped the briefcase closed and rose, leaving the metal box open and empty on the desk, along with his Centre-issued cell phone and the empty gun box. When Parker came to work on Monday and later came to find him, as was her habit, it would be a clear message: Ladies and gentlemen, Sydney has left the Centre. He knew what the consequences of that would be once the message had spread to the Tower — and he welcomed it now. He'd lived too long, seen too much, done too much or too little, to worry about his welfare anymore. He more than deserved his fate. But he'd have a few days head start — his absence would draw little attention until it was far too late, and he was counting on that buffer of time. At least he would meet that fate in a place and manner of his own choosing — and in so doing, rob the Centre of its malignant revenge.

He looked about the room, and his eyes landed on the little Plexiglas chess set, sitting as it had been since last he and Broots had relaxed with a game. It was his move, as he remembered. He walked over to the shelf and studied the board, then moved the one pawn to a position that left his entire defense open to quick and decisive slaughter. He chuckled to himself perversely, wondering what Broots would say when he saw the board and figured out what was being said symbolically, then collected the briefcase and walked to the door. One more glance back at thirty-five years of no life to speak of, and he turned off the light and sauntered nonchalantly through the Sim Lab toward the elevator for the last time.

oOoOo

"What?"

"When was the last time you talked to Sydney?"

"Jarod," Miss Parker groaned and then rolled up onto an elbow and peered at the clock on her nightstand. "You're calling me at one-thirty in the morning to ask me…"

"Just answer the question Parker." Jarod's voice was tight and worried. "It's important."

"I left him in the Sim Lab at about five-thirty — quitting time. I assumed he was on his way home…" She pulled the hair out of her face with her fingers. "What's this about? What's wrong?"

"I said some things… to Sydney… this evening…" Jarod began, remorse embellishing his tone, "…and he just… hung up on me. I haven't been able to reach him since."

"What do you mean, he just hung up on you? What the hell did you say to him?"

Jarod sighed. "Suffice it to say that I got angry, OK, and I said a few things without really thinking them through."

"And I should care about this why?" She flopped back into the pillow, feeling like a second string psych worker. "I'm not a therapist, Jarod, especially at this crappy hour of the night. If you want to apologize or get yourself verbally lobotomized, I suggest you talk to Sydney — go wake HIM up."

"That's just it," Jarod burst out. "I've called his home, his cell, his office — no answer at any of them."

Miss Parker frowned. "That doesn't sound like our Freud — Dr. Feel-good never seems to put away his 'The Doctor Is In' sign, no matter what the hour. Especially, I think when it comes to you."

Jarod was silent for a moment, and she knew she'd scored a hit. "Look," he began finally, "I wouldn't normally be asking this, but…"

She sighed. "You want me to go make sure that he's OK? Good God, Jarod — Sydney's a big boy, and he's allowed to turn off all his phones and sulk if you did a good enough job of insulting him this time, don't you think?"

"How often has he turned off all his phones and sulked when YOU insulted him, Parker?" Jarod asked back bitingly.

She had to admit, the Lab-rat had a point. Sydney had always seemed to have a thick skin when it came to receiving personal digs or low blows. How often had he weathered one of her scathing attacks on his manhood with his enigmatic and infinitely patient smile, and still been right there at her side in the next moment, as loyal as ever? "True," she admitted, "but then, how often have YOU actually insulted him openly?"

"Look, we can argue about this later. I wouldn't ask you at all, but I'm not…"

"Uh-huh," she sighed in frustration. "You're nowhere close enough to do the deed yourself."

"Parker, please!"

"OK! OK!" she gave in and began rolling into a sitting position. "I'll go — and when I wake him out of a sound sleep, I'll tell him to give YOU the chewing out."

"I'll call you in an hour," he informed her, then disconnected.

"Son of a bitch!" she spat tiredly, looking longingly at her beckoning pillow. "Son of a bitch!"

oOoOo

Driving down the darkened street towards the housing tract in which Sydney had purchased his home, Miss Parker found herself wishing desperately that she had a cigarette. As she turned and navigated the twisting tangle of lanes, the feeling that something had indeed gone very wrong with her old friend began to mount in the back of her mind. And when she pulled into his driveway to stare into the open garage, with no sign of Sydney's comfortable sedan anywhere, the whine of frantic voices at the back of her mind struck a fevered pitch.

She climbed from her car and, not knowing what to expect, drew her gun from her waistband as she stepped with care and alertness into the darkness of the garage, heading for the interior door. With the garage door open to the world, and the interior door unlocked, the house was an open invitation to plunder — and it ratcheted up her concern levels considerably. Sydney was not the kind of person to deliberately leave himself or his property open to vandalism or looting.

The interior of the house itself was pitch dark — and she reached and fumbled until she found the light switch and flipped it, illuminating the neat kitchen. Her gun led the way into the dining room, twisted first this way and that in case of unexpected company and then led the way out into the front foyer where she found another light switch to flip. The living room was dark, the hearth cold and empty — the house echoed abandonment from every corner. She made her way cautiously upstairs and then searched the bedrooms and the bath, to no avail. Not a thing was out of place — the house was neat and tidy, as if awaiting the return of its owner — but of Sydney there wasn't a single sign. His bed had not been slept in, his clothing still hung in neat arrangement in his closet, his toiletries were still set out on the bathroom counter for daily use — but HE was gone.

Feeling like she was forgetting something, she leaned against the doorjamb and tried to think. She wasn't seeing something, she just knew it — the voices in the back of her mind were screaming at her. Miss Parker straightened and re-entered the bedroom to make a more thorough search — a search for something that was where it wasn't supposed to be, or for something that wasn't where it should be. She searched upstairs and worked her way downstairs again, and it was in the living room that she found the first sign of what she was looking for — a sign that something had been removed that belonged there: a picture. The place where it had obviously hung on the wall for a very long time was readily visible. Not being familiar with the décor of Sydney's house, she couldn't tell of what or whom the picture had been taken, only that one was missing.

Then, on the desk, she finally found what she'd been looking for — a letter on the desk, at first hidden from view by a stack of psychiatric journals, was addressed to her in Sydney's elegant handwriting. She seated herself in Sydney's comfortable leather chair and turned on the desk lamp and, after putting the gun down within easy reach, opened the envelope, pulled out a sheet of writing paper and two other enclosed enveloped notes. Choosing to start with the letter, she began to read:

"Miss Parker —

"By now I'm certain you've figured out that I'm gone — and I assure you that I have no intention of returning. I wish that it could be possible for me to take my leave of you in person, but I know better. Please don't try to find me — you will not like what you discover.

"The time has come for me to step out of your life and away from involvement in Centre intrigues altogether. I should have walked away years ago, but stayed to try to keep a promise I made years ago to your mother to protect you. I now know I cannot keep that promise anymore, and I cannot bear to be there and watch helplessly while the Centre slowly kills your soul as it did mine. You have made your choice to remain amid the deceptions and lies, and I cannot protect you when you refuse to accept my help. Perhaps, however, you will at least do me the courtesy of forgiving an old man for any mistakes he has made in trying to watch over you. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions — and in regards to my actions toward you, I have never had any but the best intentions."

"But Raines and the Triumvirate have been pressing in hard on me to resume the kind of work I can no longer do in all good conscience. I don't know that removing myself from the picture protects anyone other than myself, but I simply cannot allow myself to be a willing participant in the obscenity anymore. Add that to your decision to let the Centre destroy you like it destroyed your mother and Jarod's apparently implacable anger. Then, when you consider the news I just received in the notes I've left for you in addition to all the rest, you should be able to understand I came to the decision that I have nothing left anymore to keep me here. However, I am determined to meet my destiny in a place and time of my own choosing. I refuse to simply sit around and wait for one of Raines' or Lyle's sweepers to do the deed for me…"

She dropped the letter and picked up the two enclosed letters — one from Michelle Stamatis and the other from Nicholas, both dated only days ago. Each person had written essentially to inform Sydney that they were moving on with their lives and had no wish to include him in their plans. Michelle announced her engagement to be married again, while Nicholas told Sydney at length that he needed to find out who HE was on his own, not as his son. They were two gently deadly betrayals — two lovingly worded torpedoes to the heart.

The notes in one hand, she lifted the letter again and blinked against tears to read the end of it:

"I know it is probably too late to say this, but I want you to know anyway that I've always thought of you as the daughter I never had — and I have loved you very much in my own way. I always thought of Jarod as the son I never had as well — and I have loved him too, more than he'll ever know or believe. I also know that neither of you return that affection, and that it's my fault that I allowed that to happen. I thought that by keeping my feelings for the both of you hidden, I could stay close and protect you both from the worst of what the Centre could do to you — and I was so very, very wrong. I can only hope that by taking myself out of the picture in this way, you both will finally find it within you to move on — to do whatever it takes to leave the Centre behind and make new and healthier lives for yourselves.

"I'm sorry for all I've ever done that has hurt you. I'm sorry that this will hurt you too — but it will be the last time, I promise. Whether you wish to believe it or not, it has been a great honor to have known you, Miss Parker. Goodbye.

"Sydney."

Her cell phone chose that moment to chirp at her. She snapped it open. "What in the HELL did you tell him, Jarod?"

"What did you find?" Jarod ignored her question.

"Listen to me — I have what sounds suspiciously like a suicide note in my hand, along with notes from both Michelle and Nicholas essentially telling him to get lost…"

"What?" Jarod was dumbfounded. "Maybe that was why…"

"Why what?" she demanded. "What did you two argue about?"

"But, Parker… that's the thing — we DIDN'T argue. Sydney was in a very strange mood — and he started talking like he did once not long after I escaped. Evidently you'd sent him a box with clippings that spoke of all the uses the Centre had made of my work…"

"I remember." She still couldn't believe how callous she'd been to send her colleague such a damning thing. The hurt she'd caused him that day had haunted her for a long time.

"Anyway, he came to me begging my forgiveness — and I told him that for as long as he couldn't tell me about my mom and dad, that I couldn't forgive him."

"That's cold, Jarod. He didn't know a thing about your parents." Miss Parker just shook her head. "But what does that have to do with what happened tonight?"

Jarod sighed. "He asked for my forgiveness again tonight, right out of the blue — and I told him that I still couldn't forgive; that with few exceptions, he'd betrayed me at every turn, that I could never trust him completely. I… guess I finally vented some of the anger I felt at finding out what had been done with my work — at finding out what the Centre had done to me and to my family — and I blamed him, at length. He listened… and then he just… hung up."

"Well, congratulations, Boy-Genius — you may have driven him to try to off himself." She winced. She'd not exactly been approachable for days either. When Sydney had finally worked up the nerve to very quietly ask for a bit of her time it had been obvious that he was very upset about something. But instead of taking the time to find out what was going on, she'd told him to "go find another mental masturbation partner" just that afternoon. She couldn't admit this to Jarod, but she knew herself to be probably just as much to blame for Sydney's mood as the Pretender was. The suicide note had been addressed to HER, after all… "Where do you think he went?"

"Would he have gone to White Cloud?" Jarod suggested.

"Possibly," she replied, nodding. The fishing cabin up at White Cloud Lake was the one other place that Sydney would feel safe. And, "Jacob's buried up there…"

"You're a lot closer than I am…"

"Where the hell are you, anyway?"

Jarod's chuckle was mirthless. "So you can turn that information over to Sam while you go for Sydney? I don't think so… Leave it to say that I'm several days away, and while I'd be glad to go myself, I don't think I'd make it in time."

"What if he's not at White Cloud, Jarod," she asked in a soft voice, speaking the unthinkable.

"Then we will have lost him," Jarod replied in a shaky voice. "We can't afford to be wrong. He only has a few hours head start on you, Parker."

"I'm on it," Miss Parker said, coming to a decision. "And Jarod?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you hit the panic button. He may be a pain in the ass for both of us, but something tells me that he means a great deal to both of us too. Maybe we need to learn to cut him a little slack. Life hasn't exactly been a cakewalk for him either…"

"Find him for us, Parker," Jarod answered. "I don't think I want to live with myself knowing that I might be the cause of…"

"Give me three hours and then call me again," she directed him. "I should be able to make it to White Cloud by then."

"Good luck, Parker."

"I'll need it. Pray I'm not too late!"

oOoOo

Sydney sat in the dark on the dust-sheeted couch holding his half-full glass of Chivas to his chest and staring into the cold and empty metal fireplace. Through the picture window beyond, he could see the very beginnings of color in the sky that indicated the sunrise was not far away. And once the sun was up, he would be able to see to walk the path to Jacob's gravesite — and his own place to meet destiny face to face. His gun, freshly cleaned and oiled and loaded with a round ready in the firing chamber, lay on the coffee table in front of him — he would pick it up when it was time, but not before.

Also spread on the coffee table in front of him were those precious possessions he'd brought with him to keep him final company as he waited for the sunrise. Arranged where he could see each of them clearly were the Father's Day card, the origami, the monkey, and the picture of Catherine and a young Miss Parker taken during those happier days before the darkness that was the Centre had begun poisoning them all. He saluted them all with his glass and threw back and healthy mouthful of the powerful drink.

He didn't care that he was abusing the fine liquor — he wanted it to make him numb, to take away the pain those precious objects inflicted on his soul so that he'd have the courage to deal with the pain of living in a very final way. This was his third glass, and the pain was now only a faint echo. Another glass and it would be only a memory. He tossed back the rest of the drink and reached unsteadily toward the floor at his feet for the bottle, which he emptied into his glass and then set carefully at the far end of the coffee table. No need to leave any more of a mess than necessary…

Eventually the sound of a car's motor tickled at the edge of his attention, but he was far more interested in the colors that were filling the sky. It was time. He tossed back half of what was left in his glass and reached for the gun.

"Sydney?" There was a knock on the front door of his cabin that began softly and grew in volume. "Sydney? Are you in there?"

He tossed the rest of his whiskey down and set the glass on the coffee table with an angry thud. The LAST thing he wanted to do right now was to deal with her. He'd left her behind at the Centre, where she'd finally been conquered by all the lies — she had no business here, now. "Go away!" he growled loudly enough to be heard and hiccoughed silently. The Chivas had been stronger than he remembered.

"Sydney?" Miss Parker pushed the door open and let herself into the cabin, turning on the light in the entryway and moving in the familiar abode until she stood looking down at him as he sat in the dim light, cradling his gun in his lap. The sight chilled her to the soul even more than his letter had. "Syd," she began again, moving slowly into his line of sight, "what do you think you're doing?"

"Go away, Parker. Go back to the Centre, where you belong." His words were slower and slightly slurred, but his message was clear. He tightened his grip on the gun and then hugged it to his chest. "Leave me alone."

"You know I can't do that, Syd," she purred softly, easing herself down on the coffee table to his side.

"Don't sit there — you're on ma stuff…" he yelled and pushed at her to get her off of the picture frame of Catherine and her daughter. "Go away. I don't want you here."

She complacently moved things aside and sat down again. "You're not going to get rid of me that easily," she shook her head, keeping an eagle eye on the gun in his hand. He had his finger through the trigger — all it would take would be a single mistake, and at that angle the bullet would go straight through his brain. "I got your letter."

"You weren't supposed to find it 'til Monday," he complained, his chestnut eyes glaring blearily at her. "Yer early."

"So sue me," she retorted and moved just a little closer. "Jarod's the one that called me — got me out of bed, in fact — so you can sue him too. He's the one that got worried when he couldn't reach you, and convinced me to do the dirty work to try to find you."

"Hmmph! Jarod." Sydney seemed thoroughly unimpressed and looked away in apparent boredom.

"Sydney, please…" Miss Parker's voice grew soft and pleading. "You said some things in that letter that I want a chance to discuss with you. Please…"

"Too late," he grumbled, shaking his head vehemently and drunkenly. "Nothing to discuss. And as you can see, I FOUND the mental masturbation partner you wanted me to, thank you very much." He patted the gun against his chest clumsily with his free hand. "It's all the company I need now. I don't need you anymore."

She held her breath that the drunken gesture wouldn't tighten that finger on the trigger. "I was wrong, Sydney," she said, reaching out her fingertips to touch his knee. "I should never have said that to you…"

"Doesn't matter anaway now," he mused back and glanced up at the picture window. "The sun's up. Time to go." He put the hand with the gun down at his side in an unsuccessful attempt to push himself to stand.

Miss Parker saw her opportunity and darted forward to put her hand on top of his holding the gun, to press it down harmlessly into the cushion of the couch. Her face came close to his, and she could smell the overwhelming scent of alcohol on his every breath. "Sydney, listen to me. I just… I mean… My mother supposedly killed herself — and Daddy just walked out of a jet plane over the Atlantic. Do I have to lose someone else I care about to suicide too?"

"Hmmm?" The chestnut came up to meet her grey again, and the expression was heartsick and despairing and very, very drunk. "You don't care. Yer just confusing me. You'd rather believe THEM."

"No, Syd," she shook her head. "I don't believe them anymore than you do. Christ, I though you knew me better than that."

"But…" The chestnut eyes grew genuinely confused. "You stay… you keep on…"

"I still need answers," she replied, "and I still need you there."

"No…" The silvered head shook vehemently in disbelief.

"Yes." She put a hand up to his whisker-stubbled cheek. "And Jarod needs you too."

He whipped his face away from her hand. "Now I KNOW yer lying," he growled belligerently and began to work at getting his gun free from her grasp. "Lemme go!"

The gun discharged in the struggle, the bullet shattering the empty whiskey bottle before burying itself in the wall beyond. "For God's sake, Sydney," she cried, then came to a desperate decision. "Oh, Hell!" she shook her head, doubled up her fist and threw all of her weight behind a swift upper cut to his jaw. She heard his teeth snap shut and saw an expression of surprise fill those pained chestnut eyes just before the lights went out and he sagged back, unconscious.

"Aah!" Miss Parker moaned aloud as she shook her hand out, the force of the blow she'd landed echoing up through her wrist to her arm in bone-jarring agony. She straightened him and gently eased him into a supine position with his head resting against the arm of the couch. She reached down for his gun, unloaded it, ejected the next round from the chamber, and tucked it into her waistband at the back with her own. Finally she rose and lifted Sydney's legs up onto the couch so he could be more comfortable, removing his shoes and setting them beneath the coffee table and then dragging the dust-sheeting down from the back of the couch to cover him.

Suddenly, it was as if all the tension of the last few hours drained out of her, and she slumped into a sitting position on the couch near his knees. Dumbly she stared at the items spread across the coffee table, and only after a long moment reached out for the crumpled card and saw what it was. Her brows furled as she touched the origami, remembering the day the two of them had found it in Jarod's quarters in the Centre. Then she saw the photograph, and her eyes filled with tears as she picked it up.

It was a copy of her favorite picture of herself and her mother. This was what Sydney had had hanging on the wall of his living room for so many years — and she'd never known it. She turned and looked at that leonine figure sprawled out on the couch as if she'd never really seen him before. She'd known he was a deep and deep-feeling man — the little secrets of how his life had been so thoroughly screwed over by the Centre had left their mark, but she'd never realized how deeply into his soul each of those wounds had reached. With a jolt she realized that she'd never let him close enough to her that she could get to know HIM at all. All she knew of who he was and how he felt about things was what she'd allowed herself to see or hear at work, or those few times when the lines blurred between his private life and his life at the Centre as one of his little secrets came out. The private man, with his private pains and sorrows, was a stranger.

Well, she was going to take care of him now, until he was safe enough to trust with his own welfare again. She patted his trousers and found where he had stashed his car keys and deftly fished them from the pocket. Then she rose and started pulling dust sheets from the other furnishings and folding them away. As she was folding the last one, her cell phone chirped again.

"What?" she barked into it, then sneezed.

"Did you find him?" Jarod asked without preamble.

"Listen," she hissed back, "I don't give a damn where you are or what pretend you're doing — you get your ass up here NOW. I don't know that I'll be able to handle him alone for very long once he wakes up…"

"What do you mean, once he wakes up?"

"I had to deck him to keep him from taking a gun to himself," she told him ruefully. "And when he finally does come around, he's going to have the mother of all headaches between the sock to the jaw and the fifth of booze he'd put down his gullet by the time I got here. And I damned near broke my hand!" She ran frustrated and still very sore fingers through her hair. "He's given up, Jarod — on us, on life… And I don't think I'm going to be able to put him back together without your help." Jarod was quiet for a very long time. "You still there?" she demanded finally, getting worried.

"I'm still here," he replied in a distracted tone. "But you can't keep him there at White Cloud. As soon as the Centre figures out that he's flipped out, that's going to be the first place they'll think to come looking."

"Shit!"

"Yeah. So, do you think you can get him into your car?"

Miss Parker eyed her old friend calculatingly. He was at least a head taller than she was in her stocking feet, and weighed quite a bit more than she did — and at the moment was dead weight. Still… "I can try, I suppose…"

"Good. Then here's what I want you to do…"

She listened to his instructions, marveling at his ability to put together such a creative plan in such little time and carving each important point into her memory diligently. "And will you be there when I get there?" she asked when he finally paused for a breath.

"This place is roughly halfway in between where you are now and where I am now — if we both leave right away, we should get there at approximately the same time. If I'm not there already, I soon will be."

"And what if he wakes up between here and there?"

Jarod sighed. "Use your best judgement. But if it comes right down to it, and he just won't cooperate with you any other way, deck him again. I'll help you apologize for it later."

"What about the Centre?" she asked suddenly. "They're going to know something's up on Monday morning, when neither Syd nor I show…"

"That's up to you," he replied gently. "What's more important to you?"

She didn't even hesitate. "Damn."

"Good." Jarod had actually been holding his breath. "Get going — and I'll see you in about twenty-four hours. Oh, and Parker?"

"Yeah?"

"Ditch the cell phone and get yourself a new one somewhere on the way. The one you have now is Centre-issue — and probably has a tracking unit in it. Write this number down…"

"Hold it…" she told him and walked into the cabin's kitchen for something to write on and with. "Shoot."

Jarod rattled off a telephone number. "Take the pad with you," he advised. "I just gave you my private cell number, and I don't want it in Raines' hands day after tomorrow. Get rid of the cell somewhere other than there at the cabin. Don't leave them any sign that YOU were there."

"They're not stupid, Jarod."

"No, but they don't need to have everything handed to them on a platter, do they?" he barked back.

"I can't believe I'm doing this…" she suddenly breathed, suddenly realizing that by agreeing to follow Jarod's plan, she would be turning a corner and walking — or rather, running — away from the Centre, away from every familiar part of her life, AND taking Sydney with her. There would be no turning back once she committed to this path — for either of them.

"You can still walk away," he told her carefully. "But it would mean Sydney's death, and you know it."

"I know," she walked back to look down at the unconscious man on the couch. No, there was no way she could stand aside and just let him die — none! "It's just that this is happening so fast — I can't believe…"

"If you think about it too much, you'll back out."

She heaved a heavy sigh. "I'll call you when I have a new cell," she announced and disconnected the call from her end with a perverse smile. Let HIM eat dead air in his ear for a change!

She tucked the phone into her pocket and dropped the dustsheet on the stack of others, then walked back to Sydney's side. She nodded to herself as an idea to make it easier to get him out of the cabin and over to her car came to her, and she pushed the coffee table back with her knees to make room. Then she pulled on the dustsheet until Sydney's body slid off the couch and thumped limply onto the floor of the cabin. She twisted the sheet above his head into a thick coil and then used it as a handle to drag the Belgian's body across the room and out the front door. She took a little more time getting him carefully down the wooden porch steps, keeping his head high enough that only his arms and legs made the small thuds.

But she was puffing with the exertion by the time she had him next to the passenger door of her car, and she hadn't quite figured out how she was going to get him INTO the car. Hanging onto the coil, she opened the door and then pulled the sheet until she could almost prop him up in a sitting position against the running board. It took a great deal of lifting and shoving and pushing and bending, but finally she had him sitting in the passenger seat and belted in place, and the seat reclined back so that he could continue to dream on peacefully in relative comfort.

Miss Parker knew that time was an element, but she also had a little voice in the back of her head reminding her that part of what she needed to take with her was still spread across that coffee table. She had a hunch that Sydney would need those things with him if he were ever to be given back a reason to live. She walked back into the cabin and collected the items and found the briefcase that he obviously had brought them in. As an afterthought, she grabbed up his shoes and cobbled a makeshift pack from a button-down sweater and then tucked a few of the clothes that were obviously his she found in a drawer in the downstairs bedroom into it. Once packed, she grabbed up the briefcase, gave the cabin a quick glance and then pulled the locked door shut tight behind her. She opened the trunk of the car, tossed in Sydney's gun, briefcase and belongings, before climbing into the driver's seat next to her unconscious friend.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered to herself yet again as she gunned the motor and spun the wheels getting back on the small lane that led to the highway. Thirty miles later, she rolled down the window and tossed the cell phone against a brick abutment and watched with satisfaction as it shattered into tiny pieces. She stopped in a small town not far from Dover, found a branch of her bank and withdrew the maximum amount in cash that she could from each of her bank and credit cards. Knowing she'd never be able to use any of them herself again, she left them lying on the small ledge of the ATM machine for anyone less than honest to pick up. Chasing down the thieves trying to use the cards should sidetrack any search efforts for a little while. With over fifteen hundred dollars cash traveling money in her pocket, she put the car back on the highway and set the speed control for only five miles over the speed limit. As anxious as she was to get to her destination, she was in no mood to garner a speeding ticket on the way that would lead the Centre straight to them.


	2. Safe House

Chapter 2 – Safe House

She didn't stop for anything except gas, bathroom breaks and munchies — and enough caffeine-loaded sodas to keep her alert — until she was in Pittsburgh. There she finally got off the highway and found a place to purchase a new prepaid cell phone. Sydney had not moved or made a sound in all those hours — and a couple of times she had pulled to the side of the road just to reassure herself that her fellow refugee was still breathing. After checking him yet again, she reached under her sun visor for the pad of paper with Jarod's cell phone number on it and dialed.

"Is that you?" his voice answered almost immediately.

"Are you in a place where you can write something down?" she answered.

"Hang on a sec." From the sounds in the background, he was apparently pulling to the side of the road himself. A few more seconds passed. "OK…"

Miss Parker rattled off the new number to him. "Where are you?" she demanded next.

"About a hundred miles west of Toledo. How about you?"

"Just through Pittsburgh. You're going to make it there long before I will."

"Just as well," he commented and evidently put his car back on the highway. "I need to lay in supplies for our stay and get the place aired out." He paused, thinking. "How's Sydney?"

"Quiet as a mouse," she replied, buckling herself back into the driver's seat and starting the motor. "He hasn't moved a muscle since I got him in the car."

"You must have really landed a good one…"

"Shut up. I think it's more the strong drink than my brute strength."

"You're still about six hours out, at least," Jarod told her. "You gonna be able to make it?"

She sighed and signaled her turn back onto the highway on-ramp. "I don't exactly have a choice, now, do I?" She paused while she navigated her way into the inside, fast lane and matched her speed to the flow of traffic. "And just what the Hell do you have planned for when we get there?"

"I have the use of a lake-front house where we can be left alone — and work on Sydney. We'll play it by ear, with putting him back on his feet again as our general agenda."

"That ain't much of a plan, Boy-Genius…" she commented sourly.

"It's about all I can come up with until I can assess the situation more fully, Parker," he shot back. "And that's another thing — if we're going to be working at giving Sydney something to live for, we're going to have to declare a truce. Having us around him bickering constantly isn't going to help matters at all."

"I know. But you're so much fun to bicker with — you're the only other person besides Lyle who could ever keep up with me."

He chuckled at that. "OK, we can bicker a little — but we're going to have to take our real differences and set them aside until Sydney's more stable."

"Agreed." She glanced to her right as her passenger gave a soft moan. "I better go — I think he's coming to finally."

"Call me back in a bit — let me know how things are."

"Gotcha," she replied and disconnected, then slipped the cell phone into the webbed map pocket in her car door. She reached out and took Sydney's hand. "Sydney? It's OK…"

He moaned again and withdrew his hand from hers to wrap around his chest miserably. Stung, Miss Parker put her hand back on the steering wheel and watched him out of the corner of her eye as he slowly pulled himself out of the abyss. Finally he was awake enough to try to open his mouth to speak, but then he moaned as the place where she'd hit him shot an excruciating arrow of pain. One hand came up to cradle the tender jaw. "What the Hell did you do to me?"

"What the Hell do you think I did? I slugged you. Face it, Syd, you weren't listening to reason," she explained patiently. "Has anybody ever told you that you can be an ugly and stubborn drunk? You're even worse than I am — and that's saying a lot."

Sydney opened his eyes a little wider and tried to sit up, then relaxed back into his reclined seat with another small moan and heavy swallow as the world started spinning. He closed his eyes and gave up trying to move at all. "Where are we?"

"Just outside Pittsburgh, heading for Ohio at the moment." She glanced at him and noted his pallor. "You aren't going to barf in my car, are you?"

"Not as long as you don't make the car move abruptly, and I keep my eyes closed…" he responded weakly. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Getting us both someplace where we can rest, you can get your noodle straightened out, and we can figure out how the Hell to stay under the Centre's radar," she answered bluntly. "You forced me to choose between life in that Hell-hole while you did yourself in, or my getting us both outta Dodge alive. Obviously, it wasn't much of a choice — but it does mean that we're BOTH on the run now."

She could see him moving his hands down his body — patting his trouser pockets. "Where's… where's my gun, my keys…"

"The gun is somewhere safe — and where you can't get at it. The keys I left at the cabin. You aren't going to need them anymore anyway…" She deliberately neglected to mention that her own Smith & Wesson was in the webbed car door pocket, within easy reach. "Just relax and enjoy the ride. We have another six hours or so to go yet."

"I believe this is called kidnapping," he informed her in a brittle tone.

"Yeah? Well, it's a crime to attempt suicide too — so no pots-and-kettles commentary from you, if you please," she retorted equally sourly.

"Just stop the car and let me out, Parker," he said and tried to roll up onto an elbow unsuccessfully.

"Forget it." She shook her head at him. "Look at you — you can't even sit up, much less stand. There's no way on earth I'm going to let you out in this shape."

"Let me out…" He swallowed hard against the dizziness and tried again, then reached for the clasp on the seat belt.

Miss Parker slapped a hand over the clasp and quickly maneuvered the car across three lanes of traffic and onto the shoulder of the highway, where she stopped. "You listen to me, and listen good. I'm not letting you out — got that? And Jarod told me that if push came to shove, I was to deck you again if you wouldn't cooperate. I don't want to, but so help me God…"

"Jarod…" Sydney spat the name from his mouth as if it were a piece of rotten meat.

"Yes, Jarod. We're going to meet up with him and stay in one of his safe houses for a while. So you have two choices. You can either sit back, behave yourself and enjoy the rest of the ride to Jarod's safe house in Michigan; or I can put you out again — probably break my hand for real this time doing it — and you STILL end up in Michigan at Jarod's safe house." She glared at him. "So what's it gonna be?"

"Why?" The chestnut eyes were still desperately heartsick and defeated — and thoroughly confused. "Why can't you just let me go?"

She looked down at her hands in her lap, and then back into his gaze steadily. "Because you'd do the same for me, were our situations reversed — and you know it."

This time it was his gaze that fell away. "Parker…"

"Because there's something you said in that letter you wrote that I want a chance to discuss with you when you aren't three bubbles off plumb," she added firmly. "I told you that already. So — what's your answer going to be? Will you ride quietly and maybe help me stay awake, or do I have to slug you again?"

"You always were a stubborn…"

"You're avoiding the question, Freud. What's it gonna be?"

Sydney could see that he'd run headlong into her legendary stubbornness, and he relaxed back against the reclined seat with his eyes closed. But even that didn't stop a tear from leaking out of the tightly closed lid and sliding down the side of his face into his ear. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?" he answered very softly.

"Not really," she admitted, thankful he was at least functional enough to recognize the limits and inevitability of his situation. "Do you promise you won't try to jump out or grab the wheel or do anything stupid that could cause an accident that would get us both killed and not just you?" she pressed.

"Parker…" he complained without looking at her.

"PROMISE ME!" she yelled at him, her patience nearing its limit.

The sharp and desperate tone of her voice echoing against his massive headache made him flinch. "I promise," he gave in finally in a defeated tone, then added rebelliously, "but don't expect me to keep you company. You're doing this completely against my will." He rolled away from her, his arms once more tucked around himself tightly and defensively.

Miss Parker watched him for a long moment, then put the car back on the road. It was going to be a very long drive to Vermilion. But at least she had his promise not to fight her anymore.

oOoOo

Jarod paced back and forth on the veranda of the beach house on the banks of Lake Superior, his eyes glued to where the drive came over the top of a small hill. Miss Parker had called him at last from the southern outskirts of Vermilion over fifteen minutes ago. He'd given her final directions on how to find the isolated safe house that he'd used several times over the years he'd been free as a place to just relax and kick back — and she should have been there by now…

The black Boxster finally crested the little hill, and Jarod found himself letting loose a sigh of deep relief. He ran down the drive to the barn that doubled as a garage and threw open the door that would let her pull her car in next to his. "I was starting to wonder if you'd gotten lost," he said as the vehicle came to a halt and he pulled her door open for her.

"My mind is fried, Clyde — I've been awake for the last twenty-eight hours since you got me out of bed and I'm ready to fall in. I missed that last turn and had to double back." She relaxed back against the headrest of her seat for a long moment, just taking in the sensation of being where she wanted to be and not needing to drive anymore for a good, long, time.

"How is…" He gazed over her at the man who had managed roll enough that he had his back completely to the driver.

Miss Parker's grey eyes met his, and she shook her head gently. "I think he's asleep, but I'm not sure. I'm just glad I didn't have to deck him again, although it was getting close there for a moment." She unbuckled her own and his seat belt and finally allowed herself to reach out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Syd? We're here."

She could feel him trying to move away from her hand. "Leave me alone," he told her in a quiet voice. "Just… leave me alone."

"Parker," Jarod said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder, "Listen to me. Go in the front door — there's a staircase to the right. Go upstairs. First door on the left is your room. Rest — you've earned it. I'll take over now for a while."

She turned back to him, and he could see the gratitude in her eyes along with the soul-crushing fatigue and worry. "I'm too tired to argue," she sighed and reached for the cell phone and gun in the door webbing as she climbed from behind the wheel. "Wait a sec," she stopped him from climbing in and hauled the keys out of the ignition, stopping the little chiming alarm. "I've got his briefcase and other stuff in the trunk — I'll take it in with me."

"Go on," Jarod stood back and gave her room to move past him. "Sleep yourself out."

"Thanks." She popped the trunk open, then slammed it shut again soon after and walked tiredly up to the house, barely even awake enough to take stock of her surroundings except to try to remember the directions to the bedroom.

Jarod stood for a long moment, waiting for Sydney to unfold himself from the tight wad of misery he'd curled himself into, and then slipped into the driver's seat when the Belgian showed no sign of intending to move. "I've sent Parker into the house to sleep," he informed the older man, "and so you'll have to deal with me until she's back on her feet."

"Leave me alone," Sydney said quietly once more.

"No can do, Sydney. Not right now." Jarod adjusted the seat so he could stretch out his long legs and leaned back against the headrest, finding Miss Parker's car amazingly comfortable to sit in. "I think I'll just sit here and wait until you decide you've had enough of bucket seats."

Sydney rolled back so that he could look at his former protégé. Jarod was obviously in good health — tan and muscular in a way that he'd never been while in his care at the Centre. "Why bother?" the Belgian asked in a defeated tone. "I don't know why either of you are bothering."

"We care, Sydney," Jarod began.

"Bullshit. Pure and unadulterated bullshit." Bitterness made the accent more pronounced.

"Not bullshit — simple logic. If we didn't care, Parker wouldn't have driven for the better part of twenty-four hours — putting herself in the Centre's gun sights, and I wouldn't have ditched a very interesting pretend that stood to help a lot of people and perhaps put myself back in the Centre's gun sights too." The Pretender shrugged. "But if you choose to think of that as bullshit, I guess there's nothing I can say to change your mind."

"Bullshit," Sydney repeated stonily. "If either of you truly cared, things wouldn't have gotten to this point in the first place."

"I know we've taken you for granted, and for my share of that, I do apologize," Jarod admitted softly.

"And I should forgive you now?" Sydney snapped at him angrily, and Jarod's startled chocolate eyes found themselves impaled by Sydney's pain-ridden chestnut. "Tell me, Jarod, why I should forgive you any faster than you have me? Does the size of the fault make that much difference in how quickly or easily forgiveness is earned?" He closed his eyes and rolled away again. "Do what you want. I'm not here by choice, so I choose not to move or cooperate."

The Pretender stared at his old mentor's back, stunned. How quickly and easily Sydney had turned the tables on him and taught him how painful it could be to be genuinely remorseful and yet not get even the slightest benefit of the doubt from the one he'd hurt. Worse, he'd even heard Parker call his response to Sydney's plea for forgiveness 'cold' — and he'd deliberately inflicted that coldness twice on a man who he knew very well had done everything in his power over the past years to prove his repentance with actions as well as words.

"You're right," Jarod admitted very slowly and painfully, turning and staring up at the fabric of the ceiling in the car. "You shouldn't forgive me any faster than I have you. But at least you know HOW to forgive. I don't." He drew a shaky breath. "All I have is the pain of knowing how many people were hurt and killed because of the things you made me do. How do you let go of something like that?"

Sydney simply tucked his head into his shoulders and remained silent and turned away.

"God help me, Sydney, but I want to forgive you now — I really do. I don't want to hurt you anymore. I know that they lied to you just as they did to me through you — and that they forced you to do things you wouldn't have otherwise by taking your family away from you too. I know these things, but…" Jarod turned completely toward his former mentor, his voice turning desperate. "Where does forgiveness come from, Sydney? All I ever learned at the Centre was justice and the concept of retribution. I've been practicing that principle ever since I got out — and up until now, it's been sufficient. Teach me this one last thing, please!"

"You have all the pieces now," Sydney replied in an expressionless voice without turning. "The answer is sitting right in front of you. Figure it out for yourself. You don't need me to lead you by the hand anymore."

"Yes, I do," Jarod begged, his voice as insecure as it had ever been when presented with an apparently insurmountable problem. "I've tried, honest I have. I don't know what pieces I'm supposed to look for — pieces to what? Help me!"

"No." Sydney turned back to Jarod, skewering him again with a glance of muted agony, and then reached down with a still unsteady hand to the lever that allowed him to slowly put his seat back upright. "I can't, and I won't, and that's absolutely all I have to say to you on the matter." He slowly moved to climb from the car, then had to hang onto the door with both hands as the world continued to swim and tilt. "So I'm out of the car. You were right — I was tired of bucket seats. I need a bathroom, a glass of water, and directions to my room — in that order, if you don't mind."

Jarod was out of the car in a flash. "Here, you can lean on me…"

"Get away from me!" Sydney's hands were up defensively. "I don't need your help. I told you — I need a bathroom, a glass of water, and directions to my room."

"What the Hell do you think you're doing?" the Pretender barked at him, stung by the rejection.

"Making the best of an intolerable situation," the psychiatrist snapped back. "I can walk by myself — and even if I couldn't, you'd be the LAST person I'd ask for help."

"Because I can't forgive you?" Jarod asked in confusion.

"Fine. A bush will do as well as a bathroom," Sydney sighed and then started around the other end of the car in order to avoid walking anywhere near his former protégé.

Jarod waited near the back fender of the car, keeping the vehicle between himself and his mentor carefully. "Bathroom's toward the back of the house, past the kitchen, first door on the left," he said in a defeated tone of his own. Sydney had never rejected him this completely before, and it hurt — a lot. All he had wanted to do was help him…

"Thank you." Sydney's voice was shimmering with bitterness, and he started slowly toward the house. His steps were unsteady, and several times he simply halted while he battled the world spinning. He noted that Jarod kept a careful distance, neither wanting to abandon him to his own devices nor trying to assist him again. At the veranda steps, the Pretender sprinted up the steps two at a time and stood waiting to hold the door open. Sydney clung tightly to the banister, then pulled himself step by step onto the veranda. He didn't look at or speak to Jarod as the younger man held the door open to let his mentor into the beach house. He headed for the back of the house, easily finding the door Jarod had told him of and closing it firmly behind him.

oOoOo

Miss Parker stretched and opened her eyes. The bed had been comfortable, and the light through the window had mellowed considerably, indicating that she'd slept several hours. It was amazingly quiet here — easily as peaceful as Sydney's cabin had been. She sat up and rolled over so that she landed her feet on the floor on the side of the bed nearest the window. She tweaked the sheer curtain aside and looked down on a small stretch of grass that ended where the sand began, and then the vastness of Superior stretched out to the horizon. This was a good place to land, to rest — hopefully to put all the pieces of Sydney's shattered life back together so that the three of them could figure out where to go from there.

She rolled her shoulders, working out the kinks that the sleep had somehow missed, and then ambled into the private bathroom to take care of her body's urgent callings. She then sauntered to her door and out into the hall. She blinked in astonishment. Jarod sat on the floor outside another open bedroom door, his arms around his knees and his face a study in misery as his chin leaned on his knees. "Hey there," she called softly, bringing his attention back from whatever bleak inner realms it had been studying. "What's this?"

"He won't talk to me," Jarod said as if announcing the end of the world, jerking his head at the open door. "He won't let me help him, he won't talk to me — I don't know how to reach him." He looked up at her. "He's angry at the both of us for interfering with his plans, you know — and since we forced him to come here, his way of rebelling is to refuse to have anything to do with us."

"Are you really all that surprised?" she asked him, propping her back against the opposite wall and slipping down into a similar seated position. "I'm not — you didn't see him when he was three sheets to the wind. THAT was downright scary!" She studied her former prey in surprise. This was eating at him. "Jarod — don't take it so personally. I only just barely stopped him from killing himself. Whatever drove him to that extreme hasn't even been uncovered yet. Did he give you any indication — any clue to the key to this?"

Jarod shook his head in despair. "He even got mad at me when I tried to apologize for taking him for granted — asked me if he should forgive me any faster than I have him."

"I know part of what he's mad at me for, and he wasn't hearing any apologies from me either — for whatever that's worth…" she wrapped her arms around her legs too. "Then again, he was as drunk as a skunk when I tried to apologize, and I don't know how much of what was said at the cabin he can remember now that he's more or less sober. But between the letter — that suicide note — and what he said when I found him, I think he feels like his whole world has turned its back on him. Michelle and Nicholas kissed him off, and both you and I pushed him away and turned our backs on him too, probably much of it happening just yesterday. Maybe he just hit the end of his rope, and he was kissing the whole works goodbye when you and I messed up his departure plans."

"But I didn't turn my back on him," Jarod complained. "I just told him I couldn't…"

"Forgive him, yes, you told me." She sighed. "You know how the Centre tricked him and lied to him and in the end blackmailed him. Knowing all that, you still…"

"How am I supposed to forget everything, Parker?"

She tipped her head back against the wall. "I didn't say anything about forgetting, Jarod. There's a world of difference between forgiving and forgetting, you know…"

Jarod stared at her. "What?"

Miss Parker slowly straightened until she was looking at him directly again. "What?" She ran the last few exchanges of their conversation through her mind again, just to make sure she'd heard him correctly. "You DID know that forgiveness and forgetting are two completely different processes, didn't you?"

He blinked, his mind racing. "How was I to know that?" he demanded in a distracted tone.

"Wait a minute — what was it that you told him that first time? That unless he could tell you about your parents, that you couldn't forgive him?"

"Yeah…"

"But Jarod, he didn't KNOW anything — he had no idea where to even begin looking. I was there when he finally saw conclusive proof that you were stolen — and it knocked him for a loop. You set him an impossible task, and he's done just about everything except get himself killed trying to help you uncover the information for yourself." She shook her head. "You set him up to fail, and then had the unmitigated balls to blame him for failing? Twice?? Is that any less wrong than some of what he did to you was?"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore…" Jarod said suddenly and scrambled to his feet. "You're up now — you watch him for a while."

"That's right — you run away from this, just like Sydney was trying to run away from his own conscience a day or so ago." She got to her feet as well and squared off. "You two are so much alike sometimes it's spooky."

"How dare you!" Jarod was livid — how dare she accuse him…

"I dare because I care — about him," she added quickly, hoping he hadn't heard the slight pause. "Reaching Sydney is going to take us facing the kind of people we've allowed ourselves to become and what we've been doing to him ourselves in the process. I for one know that I haven't been a model of civility and compassion for a long time now. I have some very ugly things to account for — but by God, if that's what it takes to keep Sydney alive, then I'll take the time and clear out my own trash — I'll even grovel if that's what its going to take. But that's me."

She glared at him in open challenge. "So go ahead. Run away. Coward." The last was hissed softly. "Just remember, 'wherever you go, there you are'. You know what I'm talking about. You'll be carrying that with you, and no matter how far you run from him or me, you'll never be able to get away from YOU." And with that, Miss Parker stalked into Sydney's room and quietly shut the door behind her, leaving Jarod gape-jawed and staring at the closed door after her.

She walked across the room to where she could look down into the face of… She sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and gently shifted a wayward strand of silver-grey back behind an ear. Yes, he was one of her oldest and dearest friends — and it wasn't a sin to admit it. He was as much a fixture of her life as her parents had ever been — she couldn't remember ever NOT knowing Sydney. When she'd been younger, during those horrible months immediately following her mother's… disappearance… he'd been like the kindly uncle who'd filled in when her father had been too busy to deal with her. He'd always made time for her, listened to her. He still had always made time for her, listened to her. Even when she couldn't be bothered to deal with him, he'd been patient with her.

"I am so sorry," she whispered to the sleeping man and stroked his cheeks very softly with the back of her fingers. "I've treated you abominably, and I've taken you so much for granted. I wish…" She stopped, her voice was breaking. It took several hard swallows to control her emotions again. "I wish I could take all those words back — all those horrible, hateful words over the years — I wish I could have been half as patient with you as you have been with me all along."

"You are as your father trained you to be," he responded, his eyes slowly opening to gaze into hers with deep sadness and betrayal. "I expect nothing more or less from you. The Centre is your life now — you need to go home before they miss you and send out sweepers to find you. Just… go home and leave me alone." And with that, he rolled away from her — turned his back on her.

"But I can't," she said softly. "You said in your letter that you've been trying to protect me, but that you can't do that anymore. But in trying to stop, you made ME stop and decide what — who — was more important to me. I walked away from everything, I walked away from the Centre, Sydney, because I couldn't stand…" She scooted onto the bed closer to him and leaned into his back, laying her head onto the top of his forearm. "I don't know how to make you believe me. Tell me what I have to do to convince you that I really am not the monster my fa… the Centre… tried to make me into. You were right, if I stayed, they would kill my soul — and I don't want that."

She huddled against his back, wishing she dared try to put her arms around him and fearing the probable rejection such a move would earn her. "I'm so sorry, Sydney. Please! Tell me what I have to do to make it right again."

Sydney clenched his eyes closed tightly and tried not to hear what she was saying, or the voice she was using to say it. But when she started huddling against him, trying to draw comfort from just his proximity, it was all he could do not to burst into tears. It was as if all her inner walls had fallen away, and he was suddenly faced with that vulnerable and tender young girl he'd known had be hiding inside her for so long — the one he had stayed behind for so long to try to protect, to reach. In the depths of his despair, when it was almost too late to matter, he'd found one of the treasures of his life that he'd thought lost to him forever.

Did he dare try to take a chance that this sudden re-emergence was more than a passing illusion? Did he dare trust that this was not yet another cruel trick that Life had left in store for him in order to kick him in the teeth one more time for good measure? If he weakened from his resolve not to cooperate, would he just be opening himself up to new heartache when the hard creature that had been the adult Miss Parker reasserted herself — when she took it into her head to go back to the Centre again?

And yet… his arms ached to hold her, to comfort her, to protect her. It was a conditioned response, developed over long decades of trying to keep his promise to Catherine, watching over her and wishing she'd allow him closer so that he COULD comfort and protect her — the daughter he'd never had. HAD he ended up doing a better job of protecting her than he'd given himself credit for by forcing her to reassess her life and make a final, irrevocable choice? Would it last, this contact with that sweet child who had hidden away for so long — and if it didn't, could he survive the disappointment?

He felt her give a long and deep sigh and pull her arms into her chest so that they were sheltered between their bodies. She was pressed into his back as tightly as she could without holding on. He desperately wanted to trust her — but she'd betrayed his trust so many times. All those scathing nicknames, each deliberately tailored to sting and nip at his conscience at the most inopportune or vulnerable moments — all those times he'd reached out to comfort and protect her, only to be roughly and often rudely rebuffed and rejected. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, now that his open rejection of her and everything she had stood for was bringing about desired results at last, was he ready to take the pressure off and once more make himself vulnerable to her?

He knew the answer, and he was disgusted with himself that even the slightest possibility of reconciliation with this one part of his fractured and twisted life was enough to weaken his resolve to just end it all once and for all. "You don't know what you're asking," he said softly at last.

"I think I do," she replied, not budging. "Whatever it takes, Sydney. Just tell me what to do…"

"Can you let me go?" She raised her head in shock, and he turned in the bed so that he was on his back again and could look at her. "For as long as I'm here under duress, it can't be right between us, Parker."

Now, finally, the first tear fell. "But I don't want to lose you," she said softly.

"Then you'll have to trust me," he told her quietly, "and I'll have to trust that you won't try to come after me again if I decide to leave."

"Where would you go?"

"That doesn't matter. What does matter is whether or not I'm a free man or your prisoner."

"What about Jarod?"

The chestnut gaze hardened and turned cold. "You'll have to convince him to let me go as well. But whatever happens between you and me, that part of my life is finished now."

"You're hurting him desperately, Sydney," she shook her head at him. "That isn't like you."

"On the contrary, it's he who is hurting himself by not being able to forgive — he can't forgive me and he can't forgive himself and claims he doesn't know how. Perhaps that's true, in which case it's another Centre-designed tragedy. But I don't need his blame and anger keeping me up late at night —I have quite enough with my own. So he can just keep his blame and anger, for all the good it will do him — I'm done trying to atone for things that can never be made right."

"What about me?" Miss Parker asked in a very small voice. "When will I get a chance to make things right if you walk away?"

"Parker," he said gently, reaching out to her at last and wiping the tear track from her cheek, "by giving me the freedom to choose to either walk away or stay, you'll be doing precisely that."

She bowed her head and eventually tipped forward to lay against his chest, and finally felt his arms close around her and hold her close. She stretched out her arms and held him back for the first time since she was a little girl. "I'm so sorry, Sydney, for all the things I've said and done…" 

"I know," Sydney stroked her hair, his eyes closed and engraving this moment into his memory. "It will be alright." He loosened his grip and pushed her to sit up again, then sat up himself. The world tipped slightly, but immediately righted itself. "Give me your car keys, Parker."

"Sydney, please…" The tears were falling hard now. "Oh God — don't go…"

He simply held up his hand, palm upwards, and waited. Slowly she reached into her jeans pocket and dragged out the keys to her Boxster and laid them in his hand. With a look of complete devastation, she watched him slowly push himself off the other side of the bed and stand, then stretch a bit. She rose and stood by the window, the sheer curtain tweaked aside so she could stare down at the driveway and not watch him walk out of her life once more. She felt him come up behind her, put his large hands on her shoulders and drop a kiss onto the top of her head. She never turned; and with a single stroke of her hair with a gentle, paternal hand, he was gone.

She took a deep breath, and then turned for the doorway herself, determined to prevent Jarod from stopping Sydney from whatever he had chosen. She sped up as she heard the front porch screen slam, and then a mutter of surprise from the back of the house as Jarod realized someone had left the building.

"Sydney — STOP!" she heard him call, and she dashed down the last few steps just in time to snag at his arm as he was dashing out the door to tackle his former mentor before the older man got more than a few paces farther. She clung tightly, and Jarod found himself pulled off-balance and then around to face her.

"Let him go," she told him firmly.

"Parker!" He turned to her in horror and shock. "What the Hell have you done?"

"We can't hold him prisoner forever," she told him. "He asked me to trust him, and I'm going to do just that."

The engine of the Boxster purred to life outside, and soon the red tail lights had backed completely out of the barn/garage. The two of them walked out onto the veranda and watched as the tail lights headed slowly down the drive until they were lost over the crest of the hill.

"You're letting him kill himself, after all that we've both just been through? Are you NUTS?" Jarod yelled at her as he jerked his arm out of her keeping. "What the Hell did we both go through twenty-some hours of driving Hell for, if NOT to hang onto him until he got his marbles together again."

"You said it yourself — he wasn't going to cooperate. For as long as he was here against his will, we weren't going to make any progress with him whatsoever." Miss Parker was starting to see the logic of Sydney's request, and appreciate just what a big leap of faith she had been asked to make. "If he can choose to leave, then he can choose to come back. We have to trust him."

"You don't get it, do you?!" He shook his head at her. "You don't trust a man who just attempted suicide not to try it again, Parker!! He's not in his right mind, and you know it. By letting him walk out of here and drive away in your car, you just signed that man's death warrant."

"No, I didn't," she shook her head back steadfastly. "He was coherent, and he wasn't talking suicide. He just wanted to be free to make his own choices. Of all people, YOU should appreciate that!"

"Under normal circumstances, yes — but not now…" He stomped off the steps of the veranda and threw his arms up towards the darkening sky, where stars were now starting to twinkle. "What the HELL were you thinking?! He hasn't resolved anything…"

"Yes, he has," she insisted quietly, moving to the top of the steps and clinging to the support post. "He finally heard my apology. We were talking about things — important things…" She still wasn't about to tell him of the reason she had been as much responsible for Sydney's dangerous mood as he had been. "He told me that for as long as he was here under duress, nothing could get settled. And it makes sense. We — OK, maybe it's just me — I never let him have his fair say in defining boundaries. I kept pushing him away, and now I kept hanging onto him — never letting HIM make any decisions at all."

Jarod shook his head, at first gently, then more vehemently. "These are things you discuss with a stable person — not a man only twenty-four hours from putting a gun to his head, Parker… You don't LET a potential suicide set boundaries!"

"Unless the only reason he had the gun in the first place was because he'd given up ever getting his chance to be treated as an equal," she retorted. "You know as well as I do that if we just kept him cooped up here, he'd escape us as quickly as you would have, and then he WOULD be dead."

"He's STILL just as dead, Parker — and this time, he doesn't need a gun. All he'll have to do is find a convenient tree or bridge abutment and… Wha…?" He turned and Miss Parker looked up as a set of headlights came over the top of the little knoll, and the Boxster moved slowly back down the driveway and was guided smoothly and surely back into its place in the barn/garage.

Miss Parker glared at the Pretender in the moonlight, her expression disgusted. "You can't forgive him, you refuse to trust him even a little bit — and that's why you've lost him. For a genius, you really are quite an idiot." She came down the steps and then pushed past him with a slug on the forearm to walk across the drive toward the barn, her steps quickening as she got nearer.

Sydney had closed the garage door by the time she reached him at a trot, and he turned to her holding out her car keys. She stopped just shy of throwing her arms around him and settled back on her heels awkwardly, and let him drop the keys into her waiting hand. "You came back," she exclaimed in a shaky voice, still not ready to believe her senses.

"The only thing in life I value at all anymore is right here," he told her gently, and reached out to her. She willingly moved closer and wrapped her arms around him and relaxed against him in relief as she felt his arms wrap around her in return. "You're all I have left, Parker. Of course I came back."

"You came back," she repeated brokenly, the emotions she had thrust aside to give him his freedom bubbling uncontrollably to the surface. "I was so afraid…"

"Hush." He held her tightly, scarcely allowing himself to believe that the walls had really come down finally or might actually stay down permanently. "You were asking a lot from me — after everything else that's happened, I had to know how much you were willing to give in return. I figured if you were going to come after me again, you and Jarod would have been barreling down the drive in his truck long ago." He kissed her hair and then leaned his cheek against the top of her head. Worrying about whether this sudden vulnerability was permanent or not would accomplish nothing. He closed his eyes and relished the sensation of holding her in his arms and having her hold him back as tightly. "Apology accepted. And I'm sorry I frightened you so. I won't do it again, I promise."

Jarod stared at the pair standing in the driveway in the rapidly waning light. Somehow, Parker had broken through that stubborn and implacable wall Sydney had thrown up, and now evidently had figured out the riddle of what she'd had to do to win back his cooperation and very obvious affection. Jealous, deeply hurt, and feeling decidedly left out, he turned and went back into the house, turned off the stove where he'd been preparing dinner, and went up the stairs to lock himself in his bedroom to try to figure things out. What was she seeing that he wasn't?


	3. Looking in the Mirror

Chapter 3 - Looking In The Mirror

The smells of a well-cooked meal finally wended their way up the stairs and under locked bedroom doors, making Jarod's stomach growl unhappily. He'd been sprawled on the bed, staring at the ceiling for over an hour trying to figure out just what it was that he was missing. Sydney had told him he had all the pieces, and to put it together for himself. Parker had told him 'you won't forgive him, you refuse to trust him — and that's why you've lost him.' Was that the key — forgiveness and trust?

For over thirty years, Sydney had broken every trust Jarod had ever attempted to build — at least, Jarod's every attempt to build an emotional bond between them. He knew that there was an explanation, Sydney had offered it often enough since his escape: had he ever let slip that he and Jarod were forging emotional attachments to each other, the Centre would have used those bonds against them both. And for all that it sounded like a mere excuse, Jarod knew the Centre fully capable and willing to do just that. And so Sydney's pushing Jarod away emotionally HAD been a form of protection — weak and ineffective as it turned out — and a way to keep them together over the years that had worked despite the illogic behind it.

And as for all of the people harmed by his SIMs, he'd heard that argument before as well. The gun is not to blame for hurting a man — although that is what a gun was created to do originally — no, the blame is ultimately borne by the one who aims the gun and pulls the trigger. His work HAD held the potential to both help and hinder — it had been the Centre, and behind them the Triumvirate, who had made the decision as to which use was more profitable. Sydney had had no part in that whatsoever. He'd been a pawn in their hands, manipulated and lied to and eventually blackmailed and threatened into cooperating. The few times he'd stood up to his superiors on Jarod's behalf, or out of pure outrage, he had ended up terribly hurt. Jarod had always judged him a weak man for not walking out or refusing to cooperate. For the first time he took the time to ponder the possibility that it might take an incredibly strong man to stand knee deep and swimming in evil and try to undermine it one iota at a time in order to protect one weaker than himself. And for the first time, he wasn't sure which judgment was the more real.

Then there was that fantastic epiphany that Parker had given him about forgiveness and forgetting. To him, the two had always been inextricably linked — when one forgave a wrong, one then forgot about it as the next step. What if forgetting WASN'T necessarily part of the process? What if forgiving was merely a deliberate decision to stop assigning blame and nothing more?

All of these questions milled around in his brain, none of which would be answered with him hiding out in the bedroom — all of them needed Sydney's input, or at the very least Miss Parker's. And he was hungry he decided when his stomach growled again a little louder this time. From the smells sneaking in under the door, it seemed that somebody had finished fixing the meal that he had started.

Not exactly sure what he would be walking into, he opened his door and walked down the stairs and paused at the edge of the kitchen to see what was going on. Sydney and Miss Parker were sitting at the small kitchen table, talking softly between them. The hard edge that had characterized Miss Parker's voice for so long was missing, and her facial expressions were soft and almost child-like. Sydney's gaze was filled with an open fondness and warmth that Jarod had always wanted to see aimed in his direction.

"May I join you?" he asked cautiously, bringing both pairs of eyes to him. Miss Parker just nodded and gestured for him to take a seat, while Sydney's expression immediately closed down and grew cold. He made his way to the table and sat down opposite his former mentor, who had fallen very silent and now refused to look at him. The air of hostility and rejection from across the table took the edge from his hunger, and he helped himself to only a very small portion of the casserole and then spent more time pushing the food around on his plate than moving it into his mouth. Finally he could stand the silent treatment no longer. "At least tell me what I've done wrong."

Sydney threw his utensil down on the plate. "I think I'm going to go for a walk on the shore, Parker," he announced, pointedly ignoring Jarod entirely. "I'll be back in a while. I need some air." He rose, carried his plate to the sink, and walked out the back door without another word.

Jarod felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach, and turned hurt and confused eyes to Miss Parker, who simply shook her head at him and bent to finish her own food. "What did I do NOW?" he demanded. "I feel like I'm in a place where no matter how hard I try, nothing I can do will be right."

"You're still looking for others to give you your answers, Jarod," she told him with a note of frustration. "You're not offering anything of yourself, but demanding everything from Sydney at a time when he has very little to offer." She carefully cleaned the last bits of food from her plate. "Incidentally, we've talked it over — and we think we'll spend the night here, and then move on in the morning."

"Parker," Jarod looked up in distress. "No…"

"If we stay, we'll only make you more miserable. Sydney wants to get away as soon as possible, to save us all grief in the end. You can go back to your Pretend and help all those people after all."

"But I want to help…"

"Then DO something, Jarod," Miss Parker snapped at him tiredly. "Ask yourself just how much you'd be willing to do to make things right — to what lengths you'd be willing to go — and then make things happen. Because as long as you insist on remaining in the driver's seat on this, you'll get nowhere."

"What do you mean?" He had a feeling she was on the verge of telling him what he needed to know. He put a hand on her arm. "Please, Parker… talk to me."

She stared at him, dumbfounded. "God, you're being dense — and I honestly can't tell if it's deliberate or not."

"Will you PLEASE try to make sense?" he sighed in frustration.

She sighed. "OK. I'll take you through this step by step — but only this once. After this, if you're still confused, then we're outta here in the morning. First — and think before you answer — what is it that you REALLY want?"

"I want…" Jarod started, then stopped when putting his actual desire into words clearly demonstrated how unfocused his idea of what he wanted truly was. "I want… things to be the way they used to be, to be able to talk to him again — to have him not turn away."

"And why does he turn away?"

"Because… he's angry at me. I can't forgive him."

"Can't — or won't?"

He stared at her for a long moment, not exactly sure how to answer that. "I'm not sure," he finally admitted. "I want to, but…"

"What's stopping you?"

"I can't forget all the people who died because of the work he made me do." The mere thought was almost more than he could bear entertaining for long.

"Who killed those people, Jarod — really?"

He nodded. This part he knew. "The Centre — and the people they sold my work to."

"But if it was the Centre and these others who killed those people, why does remembering those people keep you from forgiving Sydney? By your own admission, Sydney didn't kill those people — he had no part in that." She leaned her chin into her hand.

"But he was the one directing my work," Jarod complained.

"Ah. So even though he didn't know how the work was being used for the most part, and even though he had no say in selling the work or choosing the buyers, you can't or won't forgive him because of his role in those people's deaths? HE was the one that deliberately used your work in a destructive way and so killed those people?"

"No, but…"

"But what, Jarod?"

She had him. There was no mitigating factor to lean on. Miss Parker waited for the 'but' for a while. Then, "Let's go back to you can't forgive Sydney because you can't forget all the victims of your work," she said and watched him sigh as he realized she was taking him off a hook of his own baiting. "Why do you think you would have to forget the victims to forgive Sydney?"

"Because," he started again and again tripped over the lack of focus for his reasoning. He frowned as he realized that he'd never before thought this through this succinctly, this carefully. He'd always approached the issue emotionally, not rationally — and in so doing, let his anger and hurt cloud his perspective. "Isn't the saying always 'forgive and forget'?"

"That's a cliché and clichés don't always apply," she replied. "Sometimes forgetting is impossible — or not even wise. I told you that the two aren't the same process. Given that, answer the question again. Why, if you don't have to forget the victims, are you unwilling or unable to forgive Sydney?" He gazed long into her eyes, then looked down at his food when he realized that the answer wasn't as simple as he'd always thought it was. "Fine — here's a final line of questions for you." He looked up again, now almost shell-shocked. "Say that for some strange reason you suddenly find it possible to forgive him. Is that suddenly going to change his attitude towards you?"

"Probably not," he replied sourly.

"What else will it take to make things right? What will be needed to get him to talk to you — to stop turning away?"

"I'll have to apologize myself… for being so blind and pig-headed… for taking him for granted…" he mentioned, knowing that to be at the very top of the list of things that needed doing.

"And…?"

He stared at her dumbly. "I don't know," he admitted, startled that he somehow wasn't wrapping his mind around this at all well.

She sighed. "I'll give you this little hint: I didn't make any progress with him either until I'd not only apologized, but asked HIM what it would take to make things right between US again — and then met his request. HE'S the one who has turned his back on you now — so the job of setting conditions for fixing things is HIS, not yours. He needs you to let him set his boundaries a little."

Jarod stared at her with his mouth open. "And that's why you let him go," he stammered finally, understanding at last.

"Exactly. You have to find out what it is that Sydney needs from you besides your forgiveness and your apology for your behavior — and then the responsibility for filling that need is yours, not his. You need to decide just how much you'd be willing to give or do to make things right again. The fact is that unless you become as willing to cooperate with him as you've expected him to cooperate with you all this time, you'll just be setting yourself up to fail just as efficiently as you set him up to fail years ago." She laid her hands flat on the table and pushed herself to her feet. "I'll be back in a little later to clean up the kitchen — you cooked…"

"You did too…" he interrupted. "I'll clean tonight."

She picked up and carried her plate to the sink. "Fair enough. I'll be outside with Sydney, and we'll be back after a while." She gazed at him. "I think you have plenty to work through now."

Jarod nodded and looked down at his food, which he continued to push aimlessly around his plate. He never even heard the back screen door slam when she left.

oOoOo

She found Sydney standing on the shore, where he'd said he'd be, looking out over the darkened water. She walked up next to him and merely pressed her arm against his, savoring the shared warmth. "You aren't thinking of just walking out into the water and disappearing that way, are you?" she asked cautiously.

"No, at least, not at the moment," he shook his head. "It makes a big difference to me to know that I'm not completely alone in the world after all."

"I'm so sorry…" she started.

"Stop that." He put his arm around her shoulder gently. "I didn't say that to make you feel badly again."

"I know — but I feel badly anyway," she countered, leaning and knowing how close she had come to losing this. How long it had been that she'd wanted someone to know her for who she was and care for her anyway — and how blind she'd been to the one who'd been doing so all along. "What I said to you was inexcusable."

"It's in the past now, Parker. Let it go." He pulled her along as he began to amble along the water's edge, feeling her finally match her step to his. "We have to figure out where we go from here, not beat ourselves up with our past continually."

"We'll have to ditch the Boxster fairly soon," Miss Parker mused after a long pause. "They'll be looking for it as soon as they figure out that I was the one..."

"We'll need a vehicle, though…" he commented quietly.

There was another long, comfortable period where the only sound to be heard was that of the water washing the shore. "I only have thirteen hundred or so left from my big withdrawal just before I left Delaware," she informed him ruefully.

He nodded thoughtfully. "That will have to do, for now…"

"I'm scared, Sydney," she said suddenly with a shiver. "I don't want to go back, but I don't know how to keep us safe."

The arm about her shoulder tightened. "We have to fade into the background, Parker — we have to become part of the scenery. They won't find us if we don't call attention to ourselves."

"They'll be looking for the two of us together, you know…"

"I know," he sighed, "but I don't think either of us has what it takes to survive alone right now. I know I've had enough of that to last me the rest of my life."

"I didn't knock you out and drag you half-way across the continent just to walk away from you either," she leaned into him briefly. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me for the time being."

Sydney chuckled. "I can think of worse fates than that…"

"I don't know about that," she smiled against his shoulder. "I can be pretty difficult to put up with."

"I think I'm very aware of your capabilities in that respect, Parker," he reminded her gently.

"Do me a favor?"

"What's that?"

"Next time, get mad at me — yell at me. Do SOMEthing to let me know when I go over the top." She leaned harder. "Nobody ever told me where the limits were. You tried every once in a while — I KNOW you tried — but back then, I wasn't hearing you. But now I want… I need to know." She paused. "I never want to hurt you like that again."

"I've never been much of one to yell when I get angry," he told her truthfully, "but I will try to find a way to tell you when you're pushing the envelope before things get out of hand." They walked along slowly for a while. "But you have to do something for me too."

"What's that?"

"Don't let me get too full of myself, or psychoanalyze everything under the sun." He looked out over the water ruefully. "After living an entire lifetime doing little but psychoanalyzing everyone and everything around me, I'm afraid it has become a rather bad habit."

"That sounds like a fair trade," she agreed easily. They walked along the water's edge in comfortable silence for another long moment. "I wish we'd tried talking — REALLY talking — a long time ago," she said wistfully.

"We're talking now, Parker," he replied gently. "That's good enough for me. No more looking backwards."

"You'll have to keep reminding me for a while…"

He squeezed her shoulder again. "I can do that…"

oOoOo

Jarod was still sitting at the kitchen table when the two walked up the back porch steps, although the kitchen was spotless. The Pretender looked up and watched as Sydney's expression once more hardened and closed down as he came through the back door and saw his former protégé still in the room — and Jarod swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "Sydney, can I talk to you for a minute? Please?"

"I have nothing to say to you," Sydney snapped and began moving towards the door leading to the front of the house and the stairs.

"You don't have to say anything, just listen." Jarod shot a pleading look at Miss Parker. "Please, for God's sake, can't you just listen for a little bit?"

"It's OK, Syd," Miss Parker put a gentle hand on her friend's arm and moved carefully past him. "I think you should let him talk and hear what he needs to say. At least give him a chance. As for me, I need to sleep myself out yet — so I'll see you in the morning." She leaned up to brush a gentle kiss across his grizzled cheek.

Jarod watched, feeling left out again, when Sydney's expression softened as the older man returned the caress and then followed her exit from the kitchen with his eyes. Then, his face hardening again, Sydney turned. "Start talking."

"Sit, please." Jarod rose and pulled a chair out to invite his former mentor to take a seat. Sydney shot Jarod a distrustful glare, then slowly moved into the chair. "Can I get you some tea?" The Pretender stepped quickly to the stove, where he had the teapot already prepared and two mugs ready. He brought them all back to the table and poured the tea without waiting for an answer.

"Quit stalling and say what you have to say," Sydney growled finally.

Jarod fidgeted with his tea mug, working up the nerve to begin, then took a deep breath. "I've been thinking…" he began, then glanced up into his mentor's face guiltily. "I haven't been very fair to you. I've been… selfish in my perspective, not trying to understand where you were coming from. And…" he shot him another guilty glance, "it took Parker to put all the questions into the same bin so that I could see the mistakes I've been making clearly."

He paused, and suddenly realized that Sydney was still sitting at the table, listening. It was a tiny opening — and there was no room for error if he was going to make the best of it. "I was wrong… Sydney… I think I heaped all the blame for everything that had happened to me in my life on you because you were the only one I actually could touch or talk to. You were the convenient target — even if you weren't the right one all the time. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right, and I'm sorry I did it. You weren't the one who sold my work to people who would use it to hurt others, and I was wrong to blame you for that. Some of the things you made me do…" He looked up, and found the chestnut eyes of his mentor closed. "Some of what you did had no excuse — but it's done now and can't be undone. You had your reasons, and I can even understand some of them, if I try hard enough. I know you, though, and if I were honest with myself, I'd know you weren't ever deliberately trying to hurt me. I was wrong to try to blame you for that too."

"I hope it's not too late, but I want you to know that I finally figured out what forgiveness is about and where it comes from. I thought it meant to forget, and that to forgive you I'd have to forget all the people that were hurt by the work you had me do. Parker set me straight on that one too." He looked up again and found Sydney watching him with extreme wariness. "I was wrong not to forgive you when you asked it of me — and I was even more wrong to ask you to tell me things that you knew nothing about as a part of that. All these years, blaming you hasn't done me any good — because for as long as I could blame you I could blame myself and make myself miserable, and then blame THAT on you too. I don't want to be miserable anymore. I'm tired of blaming you for everything — especially now that I know how unfair that is. You asked for my forgiveness — it's yours."

"Are you done?" Sydney asked blandly. This was a huge admission from his protégé — obviously Jarod had done a great deal of soul-searching to come up with this, and done so more or less on his own too. But still…

"No, I'm not done." Jarod knew now why Parker had asked him that final line of questions — and this was where things would get difficult. "I've taken you for granted, and used you — and I'm sorry for that too. I want…" Finally he looked Sydney directly in the eye, letting his sincere remorse show. "I want to know what I'd have to do to make it up to you. I don't want this… horrible… gulf between us. I miss you, Sydney…"

"You created this situation all by yourself," Sydney informed him without any expression in his voice at all. "All I did was finally let you push me away and take one step more myself. This IS what you wanted."

"Maybe so, but I was wrong," Jarod said in a shaky voice. "I wasn't thinking things through — didn't see that by doing what I did that I was hurting myself as much if not more than I was hurting you. I…" He drew in another deep breath. "I can't take back what I've said over the years, but I'd like a chance to make amends."

"That was never enough for you," the Belgian said archly. "I helped you uncover facts about your parents, and still you wouldn't allow that to even begin to make amends — even though that was what you demanded of me. Why should I be any less discriminating than you've been all this time?"

"Because you know better than to make that kind of mistake?" Jarod answered hopefully.

"That's a cop-out, and you know it," Sydney snapped at him. "You're still looking for a Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card, and I'm fresh out." He rose, never having touched his tea. "And now, if you'll excuse me…" He turned for the door again.

"Sydney — wait!" Jarod's voice was breaking. "You're right — even when you did as I asked, I wasn't satisfied. All I knew was that I hurt and wanted to hurt you back — and look what it's gotten me: nothing. I was a fool, and I was wrong. Please… I'll do whatever you ask. Just… tell me what it would take to make things right again."

The psychiatrist paused halfway to the door and then turned, his expression no longer hard and cold but rather deeply saddened and defeated. "I honestly don't know that there is anything you can do to make it right again, Jarod — anymore than I know that there's anything I can do to make amends for all the years of pain I caused you. Maybe there is a certain point past which no amends can be made. You and I have made a lifetime's work of hurting each other — two lifetimes' worth. We passed that point of no return long ago."

Jarod's face was one of pure devastation. "I don't want to lose you."

Sydney shook his head. "We already lost each other, Jarod — a long time ago. I do appreciate all the soul-searching you've done, don't get me wrong. If this were another time and another place, I could forgive you, you could forgive me, and we could have a perfect world. But as it is…" He turned away.

"I can't accept that," Jarod cried softly. "There has to be some way that we can work around or through this. Why can't we… why can't we both just set our grievances aside and start fresh?"

"What?" Sydney turned to face him again, startled.

"I mean it. We don't have to forget everything that's happened — I honestly don't think either of us could — but we don't have to let all the hurt stand between us if we don't want it to, do we?" Jarod's eyes glittered — he had to reach his mentor somehow, before the man walked out of his life in such a way that he'd never come back again.

Sydney closed his eyes. He could feel the younger man's anguish reaching out to him, and knew that Jarod must have been turning over every rock in his soul to come to the point where he could make the kinds of admissions he had. His protégé had come a very long way in a very short amount of time. And what Jarod was suggesting was precisely what he and Miss Parker had just done. The difference — a rather significant one — lay in the magnitude of what would be set aside and the fact that the hurt in this case was a mutual one.

"Jarod," he sighed, then relented and went back to his seat. "What you're suggesting IS possible — but it's far more difficult in application than it sounds. Blame is a game of habit — we learn to think of things in a certain light. Turning our very perspectives around one hundred and eighty degrees isn't something… You have blamed me for everything from a lost childhood to never having had ice cream — every time you went through anything that was ever difficult or painful, every time you got angry at the Centre, you laid the blame for it at my doorstep. It will take a great deal of effort for you to abandon that perspective."

"But it's worth a try, isn't it?" the Pretender pleaded. He finally took a chance and reached out to put a hand on Sydney's forearm as it lay against the table. "I won't accept that we can't mend things between us somehow. If not this, then tell me what you want from me! I'll do anything…"

"I know you would. But Jarod, in the end, there is something you've wanted from me for years — something that you still want — that I can never give you. I can never be who you want me to be," Sydney told him sadly. "I'm not your father, no matter how much you've tried to make me into one over the years. The fact is that you have a family of your own. You don't need me anymore to…"

"Yes, I do. I need you more than you think — and more than I've wanted to admit to myself lately," Jarod said, feeling the truth of his statement to the very bottom of his soul. "Even though you've always tried to distance yourself, you were still the closest I came to having a family for most of my life. And as I try to put those years in perspective, I can't turn my back on how important you were to me all that time — and still are." His dark eyes were frantic. "How can I ever hope to put together a family with people I hardly know when I can't hold it together with the one person I've known best all my life — with you?" He could see he was at least making Sydney think. "Please, Sydney — let me at least try!"

Sydney sighed. Jarod was trying so hard… It was so hard to say 'no' — it always had been hard to say 'no' to him — and he hadn't said 'no' to Miss Parker's anguished plea in the end. "What do you want of me?" he asked finally, knowing he could never walk away now — that he'd never really wanted to in the first place.

"Just a chance — just a little time — the space to see if we both can start over." Jarod was hanging onto Sydney's arm with every bit of strength he had now. "Don't leave in the morning. Stay. It's quiet here — the Centre has no idea this place even exists. The nearest neighbor is over a mile east of here. You and Parker will be safe here." He added his other hand to Sydney's arm. "Please. Let me try."

Tired beyond belief, Sydney nodded agreement and closed his eyes as Jarod laid his head down on his hands in relief. "You two are very persistent and stubborn people," he commented wryly. "In so many ways, you've both kept me at arm's length for years — and yet the moment I gave up trying to get close and tried to move further away, you both grabbed hold and hung on and wouldn't let me go."

"I told you in the car. We care. You are important to us." Jarod looked up into Sydney's face, his gaze piercing and sincere. "You are… our family."

"So it would seem," Sydney laid his free hand on Jarod's dark head, finally accepting that out of the depths of despair, this part of his life had suddenly been returned to him as well. "So it would seem."

oOoOo

When Miss Parker finally rose the next morning, she could smell the scent of fresh coffee wafting up the staircase from the kitchen below. She threw back the heavy covers that had protected her nearly nude body from the nighttime chill and quickly dressed herself in clothing she'd been wearing already for two days longer than she should have. She'd have to drive into Vermilion soon and see about getting herself the beginnings of a new wardrobe, she decided. She padded across the cold linoleum in her bare feet, unwilling to slip into high heels so early in the morning on a day she didn't have to go in to work.

A pause by Sydney's door assured her that the good doctor was still sawing logs noisily, and she smiled to herself as she slipped silently down the stairs. She hadn't heard any loud or angry voices after she'd left the two men alone in the kitchen the night before — with any luck, that meant that they were at least speaking to each other in a civilized manner sometime before they turned in. She'd have to ask Jarod what had gone on.

"Jar…" There was nobody in the kitchen. The coffeemaker sat on the counter warming a relatively full pot of coffee. A toaster had been brought out along with a loaf of fresh bread and a stick of butter to provide a breakfast of sorts that was far more nutritious than she expected Pez-Boy normally served. But there was no sign of the Pretender until she heard a muttered curse from outside. Miss Parker poured herself a cup of coffee — something she would have had a hard time waking up completely without, especially after the long, hard drive — and walked to the back door to peer out into the yard.

Her Boxster was sitting up on blocks in the middle of the drive, with a long pair of legs protruding out from underneath that belonged to the lost Pretender. Cupping her mug of coffee close to her chest on the brisk morning, she pushed through the screen to lean against a porch post. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The legs jerked, and there was a thud and a slightly louder "Ow!" — and then Jarod was scuttling out from beneath her car, already covered with dust and oil stains on his forehead. "It's Monday," he told her, pointing out the obvious, "and I decided to make sure that there weren't any electronics hidden in your car that the Centre could just turn on and tune in to find out where you'd gotten off to." He was digging in his jeans pocket and then dragging out two fairly small devices. "So far I've found a listening device in the carpet of the floorboard under the driver's seat, and a tracking device inside the wheel well for the spare tire." He dropped the two little gizmos to the ground and stomped on them hard, sending small parts flying in all directions. "Haven't gotten into the engine compartment yet — thought I'd check out the undercarriage first."

Miss Parker frowned — she didn't even want to know where he'd gotten the keys to move the car. "Son of a bitch!" she reacted to the news of all the bugs and tracking devices he'd found.

"Yeah," he answered, wiping the perspiration from his forehead onto a forearm. "And since you two are staying…"

"What do you mean, we're staying?"

"Sydney agreed to it last night." Jarod's voice was quietly contented. "You don't have to worry about getting behind the steering wheel and driving again for a while. So, since you're staying, I decided to make SURE the Centre never finds out about this place. Your car and your clothing — both of you — are the only things that might have been bugged."

"Our guns too," she mumbled, remembering a seminar she'd attended where Centre R&D had spoken of the ability to hide devices within gun butts. "I'll tear them apart after I've eaten. But you said Sydney agreed…?"

"Yeah." Jarod gazed at her. "You were right. I apologized, I talked my way all the way around what I'd done wrong, how badly it had messed things up, and how sorry I was —but in the end, I had to be willing to do whatever he wanted."

"And the verdict was…"

Jarod walked over to where his own coffee mug had been placed safely out of way on the porch railing and took a deep drink. "We're going to give ourselves just a little bit of time — to see if we can just set aside all our grievances and start over fresh."

"I'm surprised," she admitted frankly. "I have a feeling that your unwillingness to forgive has been weighing very heavily on him for a very long time. You must have really outdone yourself in the defense department to get him to give you a second chance."

"I'm not saying that I didn't deserve to have him turn on me like that," he replied, walking over to lean on the banister to the back steps just beyond where she was leaning against the support post. "I deserved every little bit of his anger. I have a sneaky hunch that his finally turning his back on me and refusing to have a thing to do with me was probably the only thing that would have made me wake up to how stupid I'd been behaving all this time."

Miss Parker thought for a moment, then patted her jacket pocket and pulled out the note that she'd found at Sydney's. "For what it's worth, THIS was what got me," she said, handing it to him. "I think you should read it too."

Jarod gazed at her, struck by the sense that she was sharing something intensely personal and precious, and then took the note from her to start reading. Miss Parker could tell when he'd reached the part in Sydney's letter that mentioned him by name, for the Pretender suddenly turned himself away from her and dropped the hand with the letter in it to stare out across the lake for a long moment. Finally he sniffed and raised his hand again to finish reading. He couldn't look her in the eye as he returned the letter. "Thanks. You're right, I needed to see it."

"I don't know about you," she said, folding the letter carefully and slipping it back into her pocket, "but I don't ever want him to doubt that I feel as close to him as he's felt to me all these years. I just wish…"

"I know," Jarod said quickly, knowing exactly what it was that she wished. It was the same thing that he wished: that Sydney had just given some sign of the esteem he held them in, some indication that he had indeed felt an emotional attachment. The Pretender blinked hard against tears that threatened, lifting his face to the morning sun, and then turned back to the car. "I need to finish this before too much more time goes by," he told her brusquely, to hide his emotional vulnerability. "And we'll need to decide just how and where we get rid of it. They'll be looking for a black Boxster for sure now."

"How long do you think we can stay here safely?" It was an important question, now that evidently he'd talked Sydney into stopping running — at least for the time being.

"Once I make sure this thing's clean and that neither you nor Sydney have anything on you, a week, maybe two. My friend — the man who owns the place — is on vacation in Spain this time of year, but he'll be back about two weeks from now." Jarod was back on his back on the piece of cardboard that he'd thrown down to protect his clothing from the sharp edges of the gravel. "We have a little time to decompress before we need to discuss just where we go next." He gave her a sharp look before disappearing under the belly of her car, and his voice sounded slightly pinched as he exerted himself to move. "And we'll need to discuss ways in which to change our appearance. The Centre will be looking for you two looking and acting like yourselves — not three of us looking decidedly differently."

"What about your Pretend?"

"What about it?"

"Can you go back and finish it?"

The long legs pushed the body a little further under the car while Jarod grunted with effort. "Damn! That's the second tracking device, Parker. I'd say that they haven't trusted you for a while. This one's newer than the last one. I'll be my bottom dollar that they either forgot about the other one or added this one to it because its range was greater — and you know as well as I do how often the Centre just forgets things..."

Miss Parker saw the little device land in the gravel not far from the steps, and she put her coffee mug down on the porch, walked down the steps and moved the tracking device to one of the flagstones. She then walked gingerly in her still-bare feet across the gravel of the drive over to the Boxster, pulled a crowbar from the still-open trunk, and then back to the flagstone where she used it to smash the device. "So it seems," she agreed, leaning the crowbar against the lower step and sitting down to finish her coffee. "About that Pretend…"

"No, Parker, I can't go back. So much of what I do on a Pretend is time-sensitive." The legs pushed again, and Jarod grunted again. "Once I knew that my priorities were going to call me away before I could finish things, I dumped my suspicions on a local cop, along with the evidence I'd gathered so far. With any luck, the guy can figure things out on his own." The legs started scrabbling again, and soon Jarod appeared from beneath the car. "That's it — except for the engine compartment."

She smiled at him, all covered in dust and oil smudges — and then she started to chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

The chortle grew louder, and she pointed to his face. "I never imagined I'd see a bonafide, documented genius looking just like any other grease monkey climbing out from under my car."

Jarod got to his feet and started walking very deliberately in her direction after taking a forefinger and wiping some of the excess grease from a particularly thick smudge on his forearm. "I'll give you grease monkey…"

"Jarod! Stop!" she shrieked and pushed to her feet to climb the steps again. She put the porch support post between them. "These are the only clothes I have until I can go shopping – now behave yourself!"

"Apologize for calling me a grease monkey…"

"What I CALLED you was a bonafide, documented genius, Wonder-Boy. I just said you LOOKED like an ordinary grease monkey." She chuckled and then gave another low shriek and swatted at him when he thrust his oil-smudged finger at her. "Stop that!"

Jarod finally relented, wiping the oil on his dusty jeans and chuckling heartily. "I've missed this."

"What?"

"Playing with you," he answered, his smile warm, "and having you play along too. I've missed my best friend, Parker."

She gazed at him, knowing exactly what he meant, and then lowered her gaze and cleared her throat self-consciously. "Yeah, well, I think I'm going to go in and see what, besides toast, you've got for breakfast. Sydney's been running on little or nothing for a while, and I'll bet he's going to be hungrier for something other than just toast."

Jarod watched her walk back towards the kitchen door, smiling when he noticed that her walk was a deliberate sashay with a mischievous glance backwards over her shoulder at him, and then turned back to the Boxster. Getting it down off of the blocks would take a little doing, but it would keep his mind occupied with something other than the fascinating idea that he'd suddenly found his friend again – after so many years and so much grief between them. The most important thing was to make sure they were safe now from electronic surveillance from the Centre – anything else would have to wait until that was assured.

Miss Parker heard the screen door slam and gave a slight frown. Yes, she remembered telling Jarod that they needed to set aside their bickering in order to help Syd get his emotional feet under him again without chaos reigning between them, but this wash of warm feelings was unexpected. She had to admit that their brief horseplay had been a refreshing return to the friendship that they'd enjoyed many years ago, but that was where it ended – it had to. Life was far too complicated with putting together a new and closer relationship with Sydney without having to juggle an amorphous feeling of goodwill and… whatever… with a lab rat.

Wasn't it?

She pulled open the refrigerator door and bent to study the contents unsure that she'd managed to come to any conclusions. First things first – and making breakfast seemed like a good place to start. Figuring out where she stood – or wanted to stand – with Jarod could wait until later.

By the time she'd found the eggs and butter and had a skilletful of scrambled eggs almost finished, she heard shuffling behind her. "What time is it?" Sydney asked in a gruff voice that said clearly that he'd not been vertical for long.

"Almost nine-thirty," she answered after a quick glance at her watch. "I'm glad you slept in, though. You needed it." She jerked her head in the direction of the coffeepot. "Liquid ignition is over there. Better help yourself before I drain the pot."

"Where's Jarod?"

This time she jerked her head towards the door. "Out there, disassembling my car in search of listening and tracking devices. He'd found three of them by the time I came back in."

"Did he tell you about our not leaving today like we'd planned?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded and moved with the skillet to divide the eggs between three plates. "So I guess you're stuck with both of us now."

"It seems that way," Sydney replied, reaching around her for her coffee mug so that he could refill it.

"Here," she handed him his plate, then picked up the two others and carried them to the table. "You sit down and begin to eat before the eggs get cold. I'll see if Jarod's almost finished."

"Parker…"

"What?" She looked down at him quizzically.

"You don't mind staying?" Sydney asked carefully. "I mean, you and I HAD decided…"

She had already started shaking her head. "I only went along with that when it seemed that you and Jarod wouldn't be able to work out your differences. To be honest, I'm just as glad I don't have to look at the inside of a car for a day or so – or until you two decide you can't stand to be around me wearing the same clothes day in and day out and Jarod takes me shopping." She put a hand down onto his shoulder. "I don't mind, Syd."

He patted her hand on his shoulder, finding it a little strange but not unpleasant to have her showing at least a little consideration and open friendship for him for a change. They had all been so tired the day before – and emotions had been running rather high. Many things had been said – only time would tell whether either of those two meant what they'd told him. Still, that hand at his shoulder told him that whatever had transpired the evening before hadn't been entirely illusion.

Or, at least, stood a chance of lasting until they heard of what he'd been forced to do before he'd left the Centre for home that last day.

After that, all bets were off.


	4. Revelations

Chapter 4 – Revelations

Jarod came trippingly down the stairs, fresh from his shower where he'd gotten rid of his grease monkey disguise, to find Miss Parker with two handguns lying completely disassembled on the coffee table in front of her. She looked up in dismay and held out her hand, fingers closed. Eyebrows soaring, Jarod came over and held out his hand to receive whatever it was that she was trying to hand him, grimacing when two more tiny tracking devices fell from her fingers into his waiting palm. "I'm thinking that it might not be a bad idea to take Syd's briefcase apart too," she grumbled, slouching back against the back of the couch. "At this rate, absolutely nothing we brought with us can be trusted."

"One in each gun butt?" he asked, peering curiously at the micro-technology represented by the truly minute devices.

"Yup." She began fitting the heavy plastic handles back into the die-cast metal frame while Jarod took the two little spy devices out the front door, down the stairs to the flagstones where he could stomp them into oblivion.

"That's four tracking devices and two listening devices – so far," he commented wryly as he came back into the house and rejoined her.

She was staring at the scatter of weapons parts in front of her, her chin in her hand and propped by an elbow on a knee. "I'm trying to think – car, guns, briefcase, where else might they have hidden things?"

"Shoe heels, leather belts, key chains," Jarod all too easily supplied, making her look up at him sharply. He seated himself next to her with a shrug. "Hey! You asked…"

"You don't really think…"

"This IS the Centre we're talking about – I'm not taking anything for granted at this point, Parker," he told her seriously. "I have a scanner upstairs in my stuff – I'll check both you and Sydney over, along with anything else you brought with you. If it's there, we'll find it."

"Where's Sydney?" Miss Parker looked around and noticed that her old friend had made himself scarce.

"Upstairs, taking a long and hot shower," Jarod smiled at her. "He said he was having a hard time waking up, in spite of the coffee." He too began slouching against the back of the couch. "He's acting a little more like himself, at least…"

Miss Parker shook her head. "I don't think so, Jarod. He's acting like he's walking on eggshells around us. I keep thinking that we may have won a truce, but that the war isn't entirely over yet."

"Are you sure that you're not just reacting to the fact that we're all just a little bit raw and sensitive to each other right now?" Jarod queried curiously. "After all, we hashed through an awful lot of emotional garbage yesterday, and we haven't exactly settled into our new relationships with each other to the point that we're actually comfortable yet."

"No," she answered him, sitting up straighter again and beginning to systematically piece together the two weapons again. "Maybe I'm just being overly suspicious, but something Syd said in his letter has been bothering me."

"What's that?"

She concentrated while she got the barrel of the first weapon positioned just right so that she could fasten it to the handle. When it was secure, she looked over at him. "He mentioned that the Centre was pressuring him to do something that he just refused to do anymore. Other than trying to restart a Pretender project, I can't think of anything that would make him feel his only answer was to walk away from the Centre and put a bullet in his brain."

Jarod frowned. "I'm still not totally convinced that we're not just seeing the results of heavy drinking added to a rather substantial blow to the head." He smirked at her mischievously. "Have you gotten a load of that bruise you put on his jaw? Remind me never to get in the way of your right hook…"

"Oh, shut up," she grumbled at him as she carefully fit the trigger back into its housing. "Better still, shut up and help me put these things back together, now that you're not doing anything else constructive."

Jarod pouted at her for a brief moment, then straightened and picked up the metal frame and the heavy plastic of the second weapon. "I'd forgotten that Sydney even had a gun," he told her in quiet amazement.

"I hate the thing, always have," Sydney's voice came from the bottom of the stairs, and then the psychiatrist moved slowly into the living room to join them. "Mr. Parker issued one to both me and Jacob when we were hired originally. Jacob's…" He shook his head as he sat down heavily in an easy chair on the other side of the room so he could watch the reassembly process. "After the accident, I couldn't find it when I went through his things. I've always assumed that the Centre simply re-appropriated it the moment they felt that he wouldn't be needing it any longer."

"Feeling better?" Miss Parker asked, studying his expression of fatigue and continued pallor with some concern.

"I've felt better," Sydney admitted and relaxed back into the chair. "I'm hoping that neither of you were intending to be too terribly active today…"

"Not me," Miss Parker sounded off first. "I spent too damned much time behind the wheel these last couple of days. I'm ready to vegetate for at least a day."

"I'm going to want to go through the rest of the things you both brought here with you for bugs," Jarod added softly and carefully, "but after that, about the only thing I'm going to feel like doing is enjoy the company of good friends."

"That sounds like about as much as I'm feeling like attempting," Sydney agreed as he watched Miss Parker work the chamber of the gun she was rebuilding after positioning the firing pin. "What are you going to want to check?"

"Everything," Jarod told him with a rueful look on his face and then settled the trigger of the weapon he was working on back into its housing. "Every piece of clothing you brought, your briefcase, your shoes…" He shrugged. "Right now we can't afford the luxury NOT to be suspicious of everything. Both you and Parker have been close enough to the Centre that they could have tampered with all kinds of your personal items."

"That's mine finished," Miss Parker announced, putting her silver Smith & Wesson back down on the coffee table completely reassembled. She put out her hand. "Give me that, and I'll finish putting that one together while you go get that scanner and check things out. My purse and Syd's briefcase are both in my room. The only other thing than that is the bundle of clothing I brought from the cabin."

"I'm wearing some of that," Sydney admitted in a fatigued voice as Jarod handed over the still disassembled pistol. "Everything I was wearing yesterday when I got here – other than underwear and shoes – is hanging in the closet."

"I'll check everything here," Jarod said, rising. "I'll be right back."

Sydney followed the Pretender's back with his eyes as the younger man walked out of the living room and toward the stairs. When he turned back, it was to see Miss Parker looking at him with the gun assembly process seemingly stalled. "What?" he asked.

She shook herself as if just waking from a daydream, then shrugged. "Nothing," she hedged and reached for the trigger assembly.

"I've known you too long, Parker," Sydney sighed gently. "I know that whatever it is, it isn't nothing to you."

Miss Parker carefully positioned the trigger and then slid the barrel into place before looking up into curious chestnut eyes. "I was just thinking about that letter you wrote to me."

"Mmmm." Sydney closed his eyes as he leaned against the high back of the chair.

"Why didn't you ever say anything about…"

"About how I felt?" he finished for her.

"Yeah." She positioned the firing pin and worked the action to make sure the gun was ready to perform smoothly before setting it aside and looking up to watch his face.

"You wouldn't have accepted it," he told her simply, not stirring or opening his eyes to look at her. "The few times I tried to say anything, to behave as if there were a bigger dimension to our relationship, you were very clear in communicating your displeasure."

"I never knew what to expect from you," she relaxed back against the cushion of the couch. "I was never entirely sure of your motives. One minute I'd think you were my friend – the next I'd see you actively participating with Daddy or Mr. Raines…"

"My motives were always honorable when they came to you," he assured her in a tired tone. "When your mother died – or left – and I saw the way Mr. Parker would treat you, I would have done just about anything to protect you from feeling abandoned or unloved. But you were sent away to school before I had much chance to develop any kind of consistent rapport – and when you came back, you had changed."

"I'd learned not to trust anybody," she filled in for him. "I'd been so disappointed by my father so many times by then that I don't think I dared believe anybody really cared."

Sydney opened his eyes and looked at her sadly. "That may well be, but I learned very quickly to keep my distance. I'd chance a comment here or there every once in a while – when you'd behave or dress outrageously simply in an attempt to capture your father's attention…"

"I may have acted frustrated or disgusted, Sydney," Miss Parker told him with a look of reminiscence on her face, "but you'll never know how touched I was that at least YOU *HAD* noticed, even though my father never did." She sighed. "I just didn't know how to reach out to you anymore — other than to shock you, that is."

"Don't worry about that now," he said gently. "I don't think I have a whole lot to hide from you anymore that I didn't put into that letter in one form or another. Jarod wanted the time to try to start fresh – maybe starting fresh isn't such a bad idea for the two of us as well."

"I thought we had started fresh already," she complained softly.

"We have," he reassured her. "If we hadn't, I wouldn't be sitting here with you."

"I think this is all of it," Jarod's voice came from the hallway, and he came back into the living room carrying everything his two guests had brought with them into the house and an electronic device that looked like a voltage meter. "Sydney, why don't you stand up so that I can check the stuff you have on first, and then Miss Parker."

Sydney sighed and pushed himself out of his comfortable chair with a grunt. "My head still feels like it's two sizes too big," he grumbled as Jarod carefully ran his meter across his shoulders and chest and down to his waist.

"I figured you were still feeling a little out of it. Parker and I were arguing over whether that was the result of the booze or her right hook or…" Jarod quipped with a mischievous grin in the direction of his childhood friend.

"You do pack a wallop, Parker," Sydney agreed, massaging his sore jaw and working it back and forth gingerly. "Remind me not to get on your bad side again."

"Don't try to down a fifth of whiskey and then put a gun to your head again, and I think you'll have taken care of that problem," Miss Parker shook her head at him in frustration. "I wouldn't have hit you if you hadn't tried to fight with me, you know…"

"OR something you haven't told us about yet," Jarod finished, his face becoming more serious. "You did mention something going on at the Centre that you didn't want to be a part of, you know…" The meter beeped, and Jarod frowned. "Give me your belt, Sydney."

The psychiatrist shook his head and began fumbling at his belt. "Thank God for suspenders," he said, pulling the leather from the loops and handing the item over.

Jarod ran the meter along its length carefully, then examined the spot along its length that would cause the meter to sound off again. He pulled a thin metal strip from between the leather lengths through a small gap in the stitching and held it up. "God knows how long you've been carrying this one around…"

Sydney retrieved his belt and began threading the belt back through the loops of his trousers as Jarod put the tiny tracking device on the coffee table and resumed running the meter over every inch of his body surface. "Those aren't your regular work shoes," the Pretender commented after taking a second look at the suede loafers.

"I figured if I was going to go up to the cabin and walk through the forest, I didn't want to do it in anything uncomfortable," Sydney shrugged. He sat back down again with a heavy sigh. "A last bit of self-indulgence, if you will."

"Then you came to work that day already thinking…" Miss Parker had blanched. "When you came to me…"

"Among other things, I was only confirming a suspicion that had been growing for a while," he told her gently, knowing that no matter what he said, she was not taking the news well. "In much the same way that I did when I spoke to Jarod a few hours later."

Miss Parker leaned her head back against the cushion behind her and closed her eyes. "And both of us reacted just as you had figured we would — and confirmed your suspicion that we didn't care."

"What else was I to think?" Sydney asked quietly, looking from one to the other of them.

"But you weren't just reacting to our statements when you decided that ending your own life was your only option, were you?" Jarod asked in a soft and steady voice, his eyes trained on his former mentor rather than his instrument for the moment. "What were you talking about in the letter? What was it that you were being pressured into that you refused to do anymore?"

Sydney gazed back at his protégé in silence, while Miss Parker opened her eyes and raised her head to look at him. "Sydney?" she asked quietly.

The silver-headed psychiatrist had known that the question was going to arise sooner or later — but he had hoped to enjoy a little more of the companionship of two people he cared about so much before then. Ah well, he decided ruefully, might as well get part of it out in the open too — and then watch the condemnation in their faces. "Mr. Raines had been insisting that I assist in their latest endeavor," he explained in a voice far calmer than he felt inside. "There was another child — another Pretender candidate. They wanted me to design and manage an accelerated training program…"

"Not again!" Jarod was aghast. "Another stolen child? Sydney…"

Sydney gazed up at his former protégé sadly. "I have no way of knowing for sure, but knowing the way the Centre operates, the chances are that the boy was stolen — just as you were." He looked down at his hands. "I couldn't do anything. I didn't have the resources to get the child away from the Centre by myself, and I didn't have the stomach to participate in the deliberate theft of another innocent life. I'd been stalling Raines for days already, and I didn't want to be turned over to Willy's tender mercies to convince me to cooperate. So I spent that day working on the training program on paper as an intellectual exercise to pass the time while I hardened my resolve to either enlist help or…"

"Or you were taking yourself out of the equation entirely." Miss Parker said in an even tone. "God, Syd, why didn't you tell anybody what you were going through?"

"I tried — you didn't want to listen." He turned his head slightly and his chestnut eyes skewered her where she sat. "You told me to get a new mental masturbation partner, remember?"

Her grey eyes widened in realization, and then her expression became defensive when Jarod turned wide and angry dark eyes on her. "You told him WHAT?" he demanded harshly.

"And you were so busy being self-righteous on top of unforgiving, I never had a chance to explain why I had called YOU for a change," the psychiatrist turned his gaze now on his protégé. He slowly pushed himself out of his chair again and ran tired fingers through his longish hair. "I think I'm going to go walk by the water again," he said more to himself than to the others. "I don't think there's much left to say now."

Miss Parker and Jarod stared at each other in consternation for a moment before the reality of Sydney's walking out on them again finally sank in. It was Miss Parker who recovered first. "Syd," she called out before he had gotten more than a step or two out of the living room, "if we hadn't been such asses and so completely self-absorbed, what would you have said to us?"

Sydney paused and then turned. "I was absolutely confounded — damned no matter which way I turned — and I wanted to know what I should do. Despite everything, there were only two people in the world in whom I trusted to give me the advice I needed at the time." He turned away. "It doesn't matter now. I left that child to the mercies of the Centre, and I'm still alive to wonder if there was something I could have or should have done differently."

"Sydney, wait." Miss Parker got to her feet and walked over to her old friend and caught him by the arm. "We're here now, and we're listening. Maybe we can be more effective at helping you here and now than we would have been back there."

"She's right," Jarod chimed in. "The moment I finish checking all of your belongings, we're officially under the Centre's radar. And we are three very smart people with a good deal of experience with the Centre." He walked over and put a hand on Sydney's other arm. "Come back in here and talk to us about this kid while I finish checking out Miss Parker and the rest of your stuff. We'll figure something out."

Sydney shook his head. "I don't think so. Maybe you two, working together, could manage something…"

"Sydney…" Miss Parker clung just a little tighter to his arm, not letting him put distance between himself and them. "What are you afraid of? Why are you running away again?"

Jarod's dark eyes flitted from her face to Sydney's and then focused on his mentor. She had gotten a reaction with her quiet questions, a small flinch that told him that she'd been correct — that he was running away again.

"It's difficult enough to consider myself a coward and a failure," he said finally, after a long pause to consider even answering. "But I don't think I can handle having that judgment reflected back at me from…"

"Nobody's calling you a coward or a failure but you," Jarod told him frankly. "And if you ask me, you're being harder on yourself than you deserve."

"But don't you see, I failed to protect you all those many years ago — and now, when I finally had a chance to make things right, I didn't protect this child either. What kind of man would let the Centre have their way with an innocent like that?" Sydney accused himself bitterly. "What kind of man would have walked away?"

"You know, we talked about some of this last night," Jarod reminded Sydney. "And I think I'm seeing something for the first time — now that I'm not hanging onto my own sense of being the injured party here, that is." Jarod moved and put himself directly in front of the older man and looked into his eyes. "You still can't forgive yourself, even though I gave you my forgiveness last night. This is all part of that same vicious cycle that I was trapped in — the one that keeps the process of blame going, and keeps the pain fresh. And now you are having a hard time forgiving yourself for whatever you've done or not done with this latest Pretender."

Sydney felt compelled to gaze imploringly into his protégé's face. "I could have done more," he stated accusingly. "I should have…"

"You would have been killed," Miss Parker responded bluntly. "And that would have been worse."

"She's right," Jarod confirmed. "And then what chance would I have had back when — or more importantly, what chance would that child have now?"

"We're supposed to be making a completely fresh start to things," Miss Parker reminded her old friend gently. "Maybe you need to consider giving YOURSELF a fresh start too."

Sydney's tired gaze moved back and forth from one face to the other. After nearly a lifetime of having to make do and be self-sufficient, this was having those he cared about rally to his side. Even the ugly secret that had eaten him away for days wasn't driving them away. "You're still hanging on," he commented ruefully to Jarod.

The Pretender was quick to pick up on the reference to the way in which the emotion-charged discussion last night had ended. "You're damned right we are," he nodded. "I told you, we're family. You can't walk away anymore — we're in this together now. We'll see this through together — one way or the other."

Sydney's gaze moved to Miss Parker, only to find her nodding just as determinedly. He was so tired — tired of being alone, tired of trying to do the right thing without knowing if what he was doing was best. And now it seemed as if out of a crucible of despair had come the kind of loving support he'd lost when Jacob had slipped into his coma. These two hadn't just been talking the evening before — their words hadn't just been the result of emotions running high. They were working hard to slip into the roles he had so privately assigned them a long time ago as the daughter and son he'd never had. And they were standing with him, supporting him now when he had very little ability to stand by himself anymore — actually insisting on their places there.

"C'mon, Syd," Miss Parker pulled at his arm gently. "Come sit back down and tell us all that you know about this new Pretender while Jarod finishes checking our stuff. He's right, you can't walk or run away from us anymore. That's the life we've all left behind us. Now we're family."

Sydney let himself be pulled back into the living room, to a seat on the couch next to Miss Parker who hadn't relinquished her tight hold on his arm at all. He watched Jarod squat by the coffee table and begin running his meter over the suit. "The child is about the age you were when you were taken, Jarod — four, maybe five. They're keeping him on the same sublevel that they had you in all those early years."

"That's not a problem," Jarod commented as he put the meter down and turned the jacket lapel back to pull yet another thin tracking device from the material. "Despite Broots' and Miss Parker's best efforts, I've been able to get in and out of there for years. The question I have is exactly what state the boy will be in when we get to him. Do you think Raines will be trying his chemical enhancement experiment again?"

Sydney shook his head. "I don't think so — at least, he wasn't saying anything about such a thing when last I knew anything about anything."

"Just in case, though, how much do you remember of the formula I worked out for the enhanced seratonin injections we were giving Angelo a few years ago? It took me months to work through test versions to the one I finally sent you — and we don't have THAT kind of time for me to work it out again from scratch."

The psychiatrist's brow creased as he struggled to remember past a wall of emotional fatigue. "I remember bits and pieces only… I handed it over to the Centre pharmacology department for production almost immediately after you sent it to me, just skimming through a few pages and not reading the whole thing thoroughly. Not that I understood much of it anyway. I trusted you knew what you were doing…"

Jarod finished with the clothing and moved to the briefcase. "Don't worry about it. If you have a few pieces, it will give me enough to work with to jog my own memory. It's been a long time and several dozen compounds ago that I worked on that — hopefully it won't take much to help me remember." The meter beeped almost immediately, and yet another thin tracking unit was harvested. Jarod opened the brief case with the intent of running his meter over the interior — but his movements halted the moment the contents were revealed.

Sydney caught sight of what was in his briefcase again and turned questioning eyes on Miss Parker. "I knew you'd want them," she explained softly and briefly. "And it's time Jarod knew about them too, don't you think?"

Jarod had put the meter down and reached into the briefcase to pull the crumpled and straightened Father's Day card out with shaking fingers. He turned an extremely vulnerable gaze on his former mentor. "You kept it? But I thought…"

"If I had let you know that I cared — that I felt the same way — you would never have been able to leave the Centre," Sydney explained quietly. "I felt like a traitor, crumpling it up and throwing it away in front of you like that, but I had to keep you free of as many emotional entanglements as I could. It protected the quality of your research and," the chestnut eyes finally came up and met Jarod's, "it meant that when the time came, you would be able to leave me without a backward glance if you ever got the chance."

"But you kept it…" Jarod still couldn't wrap his mind around that fact.

"It still meant a great deal to me, even though I could never tell you. You read the letter I wrote to Miss Parker. I told you how I felt in that."

"You need to say it again," Miss Parker observed from her post at his arm. "I think he needs to hear it from you directly — we both do."

Sydney hesitated, then looked back and forth between vulnerable chocolate brown and expectant storm grey. "I meant what I said," he began very softly, never having ever been comfortable putting his own feelings out into the open in quite such a frank manner before.

"About…" Miss Parker urged gently.

"About how I thought of you both as children I'd never had," he continued even more softly and hesitantly. "You both have meant the world to me for as long as I've known you."

"Say it," Miss Parker leaned in closer, still hanging onto the arm tightly.

Sydney glanced at her, recognizing what she was asking him to admit. Well, maybe it was time for that too, he decided. "I love you both as if you WERE my own — and have for a very long time."

"When I was a little girl — right after Momma… — I used to wish that you'd been my father rather than Daddy," Miss Parker told him as she leaned her head into his upper arm. "You always had time for me, you always listened. And even later, you always paid attention. You've always been a better father to me than my own ever was."

Jarod was still confused. "But I thought you said that you could never be my father."

"I'm not your father, Jarod," Sydney said gently, "anymore than I'm Miss Parker's. And no amount of wishing will ever change that. You both have real families that don't include me, and never will."

"But THIS is real too," Jarod exclaimed. "We are a real family here — maybe not linked by blood and biology, but certainly by the way we feel about each other. Good God, Sydney, you raised me, you taught me manners, how to tie a tie — all the kinds of things that a father teaches a son." He gazed at his mentor. "I was in a stationary store one time and saw a Father's Day card that said, 'any man can be a father, it takes a special man to be a Dad.' You may not have been my father, but you certainly have been my dad in all the ways that count. I'll never have the same connect with my real father as I do with you for the simple fact that when I was growing up, you were there and he wasn't."

"I don't deserve either of you," Sydney mumbled, his emotions rising up and making it difficult to speak.

"Too bad," Jarod smiled at him shakily, "you're stuck with us now." He sat down on the couch next to Sydney. "Might as well get used to it."

Sydney closed his eyes and leaned back against the back of the couch. His surrogate children were demanding that he make room for them to take their place at his side, something he'd never expected to experience at all, and he could never have imagined how good it felt. A little of his heartache eased as he sat surrounded by the two people he loved most in this world and who evidently cared about him as much as well. He was comforted and relieved, but the intense exchange had also left him emotionally depleted and physically exhausted.

Miss Parker lifted her head from his arm as she felt her old friend relax and draw a deep breath that announced that he was rapidly falling deeply asleep. She caught Jarod's eye and put a finger to her lips, and he nodded. Rising, he arranged the pillows on his end of the couch to be ready to receive Sydney's head when Miss Parker gave the older man a gentle nudge. She rose and carefully lifted legs and feet up onto the couch and then unfolded an old plush quilt that had been draped over the back of the couch to cover him.

Jarod pointed at the briefcase and clothing, and with a nod, Miss Parker gathered the belongings from the coffee table as the Pretender retrieved his meter and the collection of tracking devices already discovered. Together they stole from the room, leaving Sydney gently snoring with the most peaceful look on his face they'd seen in a long time.

oOoOo

"What are we going to do?"

Jarod drained the last of the coffeepot into his mug and came back to sit with Miss Parker at the table. "We have to get that boy out of there," he pronounced as if the course of action were a foregone conclusion — then looked up at her questioningly. "Right? We're agreed — we can't just leave him there…"

"No duh, Pez-for-brains. But what are we going to DO? We can't just walk back in there and demand they release him…" She retorted, folding her arms across her chest. "We just got through running very far, very fast and getting rid of anything that would tie us back to the Centre…"

"Maybe we don't have to walk back in at all," Jarod said after sipping at his coffee and thinking. "If this child is stolen, then somebody's looking for him. We just need proof that he's in the Centre that the Centre can't talk its way out of when the time comes." He looked up at her. "For that matter, there's ANOTHER child trapped in the Centre that deserves a better life too — your baby brother."

Miss Parker's face fell. "Do you know that Raines won't even let me in to see him anymore?" she asked in a sorrowful tone. "I don't even know where they're keeping him." Jarod rose quickly and started from the kitchen, his coffee mug in hand. "Where are you going?" she demanded.

"I'm going to get my laptop," he told her brusquely. "If the boy was stolen, nine chances out of ten there's been a police report and perhaps a news story or two. We'll need it — and a picture of the stolen child — to compare against the details of the kid Sydney was supposed to start training. And then we'll need to get in touch with my contact at the Centre…"

"I always figured you had yourself an inside man — you stayed ahead of us too damned easily," she nodded as if satisfied at having a hunch confirmed. "Who is it? Broots?"

Jarod shook his head. "No, Mr. Broots is too easily intimidated by Lyle and Raines — and afraid for his daughter — to be much help there. My contact is the one person you'd never suspect because you've underestimated him all along: Angelo."

"Angelo?" She blinked in astonishment, then shook her head. "Here and I thought his wits were completely scrambled."

"Verbally, yes. But otherwise…" Jarod left the statement unfinished and headed up the stairs toward his room.

Miss Parker sat at the kitchen table, stunned at the idea that Angelo understood and could express more than any of them had ever given him credit for. Briefly she remembered the look of innocent lucidity that had been in his eyes while waiting for the effects of the treatment Sydney had been giving him to wear off — how he had wished that he'd had the chance to know her as she really was. Angelo had been left behind at the Centre too.

She looked up as Jarod carried the black canvas bag with his computer into the kitchen and began running wires. "Angelo is stuck there too," she said softly. "If we're going to mount a rescue, he has to be part of it."

He looked up at her briefly, then went back to his task. "You'll have to ask Sydney if he thinks it's wise to take Angelo out of an institutional setting," he replied calmly. "Just because he's more expressive than you've thought doesn't mean that he can survive without a fairly substantial support system. Frankly, if Angelo wants out, I'm all for getting him out — but if he'd prefer to stay put, I don't know that there's much we can do to persuade him."

The laptop beeped as it booted, and then Jarod immediately launched the application that he'd written that logged him into the Centre mainframe. "Won't they know you're on?" she asked curiously, watching the ease with which he was working.

"Nah." He shook his head. "I wrote this after Broots did his latest security upgrade — and I found the backdoor that he left for himself to be able to maintain the system. If I didn't know Broots so well, I couldn't have done it, though — the man's a genius." He punched a few more keys. "There!" He hit the command to begin recording and sat back. "Found him!"

Parker bent closer and then caught her breath back. Jarod had indeed found a child who was currently locked in one of the featureless and bleak cement cages that lined so many of the corridors on that particular sublevel. As she watched, the little one curled himself up on his cot with a whimpered, "Mommy!" just as the steel door was thrown open and Raines himself came into the room.

"Come along, Ricky. Time for you to do a little work for us." He gestured, and Willy descended upon the innocent, dragging him from his cot roughly by the forearm.

"Lemme go!" the little one squealed. "I want my Mommy and Daddy!"

"Oh my God!" Parker laid a distressed hand on Jarod's shoulder. "How can they do that to a child?"

"Trust me, they do it all the time," Jarod replied bitterly, waiting until the child and his keepers were all vanished from the screen before halting his recording. He glanced up into her face, his emotions very tightly controlled. "It's a very frightening experience to have a hood thrown over your head and be dragged from your home and dumped into that place, Miss Parker. I wouldn't wish it on anybody."

She straightened and backed away from what she'd just seen. "I've seen some pretty awful things in the Centre," she breathed, "some of it on DSAs of your time there. But I never thought…"

"Remember Davy — the little Pretender that Angelo and I rescued years ago?" he asked her in a sour tone. "Why do you think we were so hell-bent to get him out of there? Not only did Raines do to him what he did to this little one, but he was drugging him as well."

"I know," she replied, her stomach churning. "We've got to get him out of there, Jarod!"

"We will," Jarod replied, his voice filled with angry determination. "And when we do, THIS time we'll make them sorry they couldn't leave well enough alone."

"What are you going to do?"

"With this, we have proof of child slavery and kidnapping. I think its time evidence of this ended up in the hands of people who'll do something about it, don't you?"

"Be careful, Jarod," she cautioned. "The Centre has so many government officials in their back pockets that it will be difficult to know who you can trust."

"Right now this is just the germ of an idea," he told her by way of soothing her. "But whatever we do in the end, we will have thought this thing through together — the three of us — and be agreed on it. We're in this together — all the way."

Miss Parker breathed a huge sigh of relief and came back up behind him to put her hands on his shoulders again and peer over his shoulder. "So, what's your next move?"

In answer, Jarod started typing and opened the Centre's email client and then typed in an address she'd never seen before. "CJ?"

"Angelo," he replied. "Cracker Jacks — remember?" He peered up at her and saw her shake her head in astonished memory at her sharing her treat with a then unknown fellow Centre child. "You started something that day — he's been hooked on them ever since." He looked back down and typed in a quick two-line plea for help and sent it off, then closed the client. "Now let's see what we can find on baby brother, shall we?"

The only person she'd seen that was even halfway capable of maneuvering through the maze that was the Centre mainframe as well as Jarod did right in front of her was Broots. It took him ten minutes of searching before he finally said, "Got him!" and keyed into another video feed — this one of a nursery. Her two-and-a-half-year-old brother was securely held within a twenty-foot square pen in which were a table, two chairs and some scattered toys. A white-garbed nurse sat at the table hanging onto her toddler brother with everything she had while the little boy struggled to get away. "No wanna do maff," he complained bitter. "No wike maff."

"Just twenty more problem, Master Parker, and then you can play with your toys…"

"Me already done twenny pwobwems. Me DONE!" The child was adamant and not cooperating in the least.

Jarod looked up at Miss Parker in concern. "Since when are little ones THAT small forced to do forty or fifty math problems just to earn some playtime?" He turned back to the screen. "They're treating him like another potential Pretender."

Her hands tightened on his shoulders in rage. "What the hell does Raines think he's doing with my baby brother?" she demanded in a hiss.

"Easy," he soothed, carefully peeling one set of claws from a shoulder and reaching for the other. "We'll get him out of there." He patted the two hands between his once he had them pried loose. "That HURT, Parker…"

It took a moment for her rage to clear enough for her to remember that it wasn't THIS man she was angry at. "God, I'm sorry," she gasped, backing away from Jarod quickly. "I've got to…" she backed away again, then headed out the screen door at a dead run.

Concerned, he ran after her and finally caught up to her on the beach where she had fallen to her knees and was losing her breakfast. He crouched next to her and held her hair back away from her face until she was finally through and turned an ashen face to him. "I'm sorry," she repeated, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.

"It's OK," he told her gently, smoothing her hair back. "You didn't hurt me that much."

"No," she shook her head. "I just… LEFT him there… didn't even bother to think about him…"

"You had a lot on your mind," Jarod reminded her. "Keeping Sydney from doing himself in being at the top of the list. Don't blame yourself."

"But…"

"But nothing. Listen to me. You said it yourself, Raines hasn't let you near him — do you honestly think that's going to change without good cause?" Her agonized grey eyes searched his until she finally accepted that he was telling her the truth. "You did what you had to do at the moment — and now you'll come along and take care of unfinished business. There's nothing to be sorry for."

"God!"

"C'mon, Parker, pull yourself together. I don't think I have it in me to hold both you AND Sydney together right now — and I don't think seeing you falling to pieces is going to help Sydney much at all. He needs you to be strong right now." The warm hand he had spread across her back and rubbing it gently belied his tough words. "We'll get baby brother out, just like we'll get little Ricky out and see about Angelo. You'll see." He straightened and then held a hand down to her. "C'mon. Let's get back into the house and get you cleaned up before Sydney wakes up again."

She took hold of his hand and used it to pull herself back up to her feet again. She found it oddly comforting when he didn't immediately let go of her but kept his fingers intertwined with hers as they walked slowly back up the sandy path toward the house. That warm feeling from earlier that morning filled her again, and she found that she had to force herself to watch her feet rather than gaze at him. She wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but it was becoming increasingly hard to ignore.

Jarod was grateful that she didn't automatically pull away when she had regained her feet, but let him hang on and give her some small comfort on the way back to the house. He hadn't expected her to react so violently to the idea that the Centre was exploiting her baby brother — maybe he had been underestimating just how much like her mother she truly was all this time, figuring that years of training had burned all the compassion out of her. This was almost as bad as that strange night by the fire on Carthis, when his feelings for her first got all tangled and confused.

Their hands parted by themselves the moment both were back in the kitchen, but Jarod put his hand on her back and steered her toward the front of the house and the stairs. "I have a tee shirt and sweat pants you can wear for the time being while your clothes dry," he told her softly so as not to awaken Sydney, who was still snoring softly on the couch.

"I need to go shopping one of these days," she replied in a whisper over her shoulder. "I'm the only one of us without anything else to wear."

"I don't mind loaning out my clothes — honestly," he quipped from below her.

"Oh, I'm sure you don't," she managed to finally chuckle. "But I need to go shopping before I go nuts trying to keep one blouse and one pair of trousers clean."

"I know better than to get between a woman and her shopping trips," Jarod smirked. "A man could get hurt that way."

He could tell the depth of her pain at realizing her baby brother was still trapped at the Centre by the fact that she didn't toss back any further bon mots but continued up the stairs with a dragging pace.


	5. The Best Laid Plans

Chapter 5 – The Best-Laid Plans

When Sydney finally awoke from his unexpected nap, he lay quietly on the couch and listened with eyes closed to what was going on around him in the house. There were the sounds of something crunchy being cut up — presumably in the kitchen and probably for lunch — but no voices. No talking. It was actually quiet enough that he could hear the insects buzzing outside as well as the sound of birds chirping in the surrounding trees. It was easily as peaceful here as it was at his cabin – and certainly a far sight less lonely.

He opened his eyes at last and pushed himself up on an elbow, and then smiled fondly at the sight of the quilt that covered him. He knew he hadn't pulled it down on himself — he distinctly remembered talking with them and then suddenly, fading out. So it must have been that they were still taking care of him – coddling and pampering him even – and that thought was more warming to his heart than the quilt had been to his body. He relaxed once more and took a deep and cleansing breath.

He really hadn't thought it possible to reconnect emotionally with either of them – and in his despair had actually abandoned the hope that he would ever reclaim any kind of relationship and then set up defensive walls to lock away that part of his soul that would never truly be able to disconnect with those he'd always secretly thought of as children he'd never had. To think that all he'd thought so utterly destroyed that he'd had to wall away a goodly portion of his soul had been not only restored to him but even repaired and made better than ever before was almost incomprehensible. So was the idea that they hadn't both condemned him in the same way that he had condemned himself for not doing anything substantive about the new obscenity the Centre was trying to accomplish. They were going to try to help – and after a lifetime of acting virtually alone, that was the greatest relief of all.

He pushed himself to a sitting position and pulled the quilt so that he could fold it up again and drape it over the back of the couch. His head still ached some – and he found that he had very little ambition to do much more than simply sit slumped forward with his head in his palm and his elbow on the arm of the couch, enjoying the knowledge that a very important portion of his life had NOT been entirely wasted. It would take a while to really accept that he wasn't alone anymore – emotionally or otherwise.

"Syd – it's good to see you're awake again." Miss Parker's voice came from the archway that led toward the kitchen and the bathroom.

"If I'm not careful, I'll sleep the entire day away – and then I'll get my days and nights mixed up," he commented ruefully. He glanced behind her. "Where's Jarod?"

"At the kitchen table, working on the Internet to put together the beginnings of a plan," she replied calmly. "We found the boy Raines wanted you to work with – and we found my little brother too. We've seen fresh video feed of the both of them." She moved into the room and sat down next to him on the couch. "Raines is having my brother trained and treated like a Pretender subject too, Sydney. At three years old, he's doing forty or fifty math problems just to earn a little free play time."

"Parker," Sydney said, seeing how much that was bothering her. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"I know," she said in a shaky voice, patting his hand as it rested on his thigh. "It's just that… I left him behind, Syd – walked away without a second thought as if I'd forgotten that he even existed."

"How long has it been since you've seen him?" the psychiatrist asked gently.

"A long time," she admitted in a distracted voice. "A very long time."

He put an arm around her shoulders, quietly celebrating that doing so would no longer earn him a brash and sarcastic brush-off, and pulled her to lean against him. "I take it our rescue efforts now include two small boys?" he asked quietly.

She nodded against him, surprised at herself and how easy it was to accept this kind of emotional support from him for a change. What was more, she knew that being given the opportunity to offer such support and have it actually be accepted would go a long way to healing whatever had snapped inside Sydney. "Jarod has the beginnings of an idea – I suppose if you're feeling up to it, he'd probably prefer to discuss it with the three of us. We are all in this together now after all." She pushed herself out of his arms and rose, then turned and extended her hand down to help him up. "The coffee pot has been emptied, washed and dried – but I can make us some tea, if you want."

"Didn't I hear you working on lunch a little bit ago?" Sydney asked as he let her pull him to his feet.

"You have good ears, Freud," she replied, impressed. "You in the mood for salad?"

"I'm in the mood for whatever you've worked on," he answered her with a smile. "I'm not a very picky eater."

"That's good," she commented with a wide smile, "because I'm not the best of cooks."

He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. "Your scrambled eggs this morning…"

"…Were something Momma taught me to make when I was still very small, Syd," she informed him with a chuckle, "and pretty damned hard to screw up even deliberately."

"You could have burned them," he told her with a grin.

"Be careful what you wish for," she threatened, now laughing gently.

Jarod looked up at the sound of soft voices. "You're awake again," he greeted his mentor easily. "And you look a bit more rested than last time."

"I'm coming to the conclusion that I'm going to live," Sydney said quietly and slipped into a chair across the table and on the other side of the laptop screen from Jarod. "Parker says that you've found the boy."

"Yeah," the Pretender nodded grimly, "and they're already treating him like property and making him work."

"That is what the Centre does," Sydney nodded with an unhappy expression. "Is there any sign that he's being drugged?"

"If he is, it's still a small dose," Jarod shook his head. "But if I had to guess, I'd say not yet. When I found Davy – the boy that Raines tried to steal the last time – he had him pretty well doped up almost immediately. This little one still looks like he's in command of his wits."

"Good, because the less we have to do to him chemically, the easier it will be to return him to his parents when the time comes," Miss Parker piped up from the kitchen counter, where she was putting a tea bag into the tea pot while waiting for the water to boil.

"What about your brother?" Sydney aimed his question at Miss Parker as she turned to the refrigerator to pull out salad dressings to set on the table. "Any sign he's been drugged?"

She shook her head, but Jarod answered for her. "He was fighting the order to do more math problems before he could play. I don't think he'd have been quite so effective at arguing with his nurse if Raines had started him on the enhancement formula." Jarod typed silently a little more. "Yes! Got him! I knew that if little Rickie was stolen, there'd be someone looking for him! Seems little Rickie comes from the Dallas/Fort Worth area. Come see!"

By the time Sydney and Miss Parker had come around the end of the table and were peering over his shoulder, Jarod had brought the picture of the little boy in the Centre cell up in one window and the still photo of the missing child in another window alongside it on his computer screen. The likeness was simply too great to be a coincidence. "Richard Xavier Santos," Miss Parker read the caption under the newspaper still.

"Does the Centre live video feed have a date and time stamp imbedded?" Sydney asked, moving back toward his seat and sitting down with his eyes never leaving Jarod's face. "Can we prove that he's in the Centre NOW, on THIS day from a file created from this?"

"No," the Pretender shook his head. "I'll have to tap into the DSA recording process itself to get a copy with the valid time/date stamp," he told them both. "But now that I know where they're keeping him, that's not going to be THAT much of a problem. The question will be just exactly who do I want to send this information TO – who will have the guts to eventually stand up to the pressure the Centre puts on them to keep this hush-hushed."

"C'mon, Wonder-boy — you've worked Pretends with the FBI a number of times," Miss Parker reminded him, turning away to fetch plates from the dishwasher to set the table for lunch. "Isn't there anybody you know that would be willing to help you out?"

Jarod looked at her thoughtfully. "There are a couple of people I could call, I suppose…"

"It shouldn't make that much difference, provided that it's a federal agent you deal with," Sydney commented quickly. "Kidnapping and transporting a child across state lines is a federal offense. If you run your information through someone you feel you can trust, then there's an added level of protection between you and the people in Dallas to whom the information will eventually go."

"Are you sure you can trust them?" Miss Parker wanted to know.

Jarod shrugged. "As sure as I am about anything at this point, I suppose."

"How long do we dare wait before we start the ball rolling?" Sydney asked, and then shrugged off the startled looks of the two others. "You both know that every day we leave that boy at the Centre is another day when God alone knows what Raines might decide to DO with him…"

"You're not ready for much of anything yet, Sydney, and you know it," Jarod told his mentor gently. "You're just a little under forty-eight hours removed from a case of alcohol poisoning, attempted suicide and a mild concussion from Parker's right hook — and we're all still washed out from what it took to get us here and what we've been through with each other since then. Before we start putting effective dates on anything, I'd like us ALL to be a whole lot more rested and emotionally stable. We also need to be a helluva lot better informed about what we're going to do, when we're going to do it, and what we intend to do to keep ourselves safe from the backlash when things start going down. Planning this thing properly is going to be the key — and that's something we can't rush."

"Nine chances out of ten, the kids aren't going to be going anywhere anyway — and we can keep an eye on them very quietly from here while we prepare. Besides, we've still got to figure out how to get rid of the Boxster," Miss Parker chimed in, "and I need something to wear other than one drip-dry outfit and Jarod's slob clothes."

"I told you I don't mind sharing, Parker," Jarod grinned at her mischievously and earned himself a gentle slug into the shoulder for his trouble.

"What about just leaving the Boxster in the garage – with a note to your friend who owns this place to not touch it for six months or so?" the psychiatrist suggested with a glint in his eye. "By the time the Centre found it, they'd KNOW the trail was cold…"

Jarod nodded his head in agreement. "I can leave behind some money and ask Adam to simply store the car for us – something tells me that once the FBI find out where Rickie is, they'll start to dig to see what ELSE they can find out about the Centre. This could easily be the beginning of the end for the Centre, you know…"

"If we intend to bring the Centre down, we'll definitely need to make our move beforehand to get Miss Parker's brother — and maybe even Angelo — out of harm's way," Sydney announced very firmly. "We should probably notify Broots to make himself scarce too…"

"When the time comes, Syd," Parker reasoned with him, putting a gentle hand on his arm as she moved around him to finish bringing their simple lunch to the table. "When the time comes. Jarod's right — we need to plan our moves carefully and make sure YOU can handle the pressure before we start thinking of when."

"We may not have that luxury," Sydney shook his head. "If Raines is going to start the enhancement treatments…"

"…Then you'd better see what kinds of bits and pieces you can remember to the formula for the enhanced serotonin that I worked out back when to counteract the active agent in that treatment, Sydney," Jarod told his mentor quietly. "It's something proactive that you can be doing that will directly affect whether our efforts will be successful or not — and it will allow you to rest up in the meanwhile. The sooner you remember what you can, the sooner I can reconstruct the formula. In the meanwhile, however, I can work on gathering evidence from the Centre and getting it into a form that will be acceptable to law enforcement once we hand it over. I've contacted Angelo already — his help from the inside will be invaluable when it does come down to a question of timing."

Sydney folded his arms across his chest. "I just hate waiting," he grumbled. "It feels like I'm doing nothing constructive at all."

"Look at it this way," Jarod soothed, "at least you're waiting for the right time to take action now. That's an improvement, isn't it?"

"And you're not waiting alone," Miss Parker added from across the kitchen.

The last statement was what made Sydney unfold his arms again. Jarod shot the woman behind him a congratulatory glance for having broken through the older psychiatrist's impatience. She was still more tuned in to Sydney's moods and thoughts than he was himself — still more able to disarm Sydney's residual negativity. For all that Sydney had spent the greater share of his life mentoring him, Jarod knew that his mentor's relationship with Miss Parker was a far closer one. He'd have to trust in that rapport more, and maybe try to figure out what it would take to begin to build something similar between himself and his mentor.

He closed the laptop and pushed it out of the way to make room for plates and silverware. "And you are too doing something constructive while waiting. You're getting ready to eat — and you're getting your life put back together properly."

"You know what I mean," Sydney grumbled stubbornly.

"Yes, I know," Jarod said gently. "All too well."

"Listen here you two — I'm supposed to be the queen of impatience around here," Miss Parker told them both with a note of superiority. "I'm the one who knows as a fact that the real 'magic word' everybody talks about is 'NOW!'"

"She has us there," Jarod smirked at his mentor.

Sydney eyed her with fond indulgence. "Jarod, we are definitely outclassed."

"And don't you forget it!" she smirked and sat down. "Dig in. We'll talk floor plans and time tables after lunch."

"Yes, ma'am," Jarod replied in a deliberately meek voice, earning himself chuckles from the others at the table.

oOoOo

Jarod looked across the kitchen to where Miss Parker was finishing cleanup duties. "Peroxide, hair color — is that all you want, Parker?"

"Once I have those, I can take your SUV into town and get myself some clothes without being recognized," she reminded him.

"I could use a good pair of sunglasses," Sydney suggested with a glance across the kitchen himself. "Seems that I didn't such a good job of packing when I decided to come out here…"

"Sorry about that, Syd," she told him without turning from her job of rinsing dishes. "I didn't realize I'd need to bring them with us."

"You want to go into town with me?" Jarod asked his mentor carefully. "Or are you still wanting to just veg out around here for the rest of the day?"

"I thought I'd see what I could remember about that serotonin antidote of yours for Raines' enhancement drug," the older man answered, pulling a legal pad from near Jarod's laptop over to his side of the table and accepting Jarod's offer of his pen.

"OK then, I'll be back after a bit." Jarod rose. "Anything in particular either or you would like for dinner?"

Sydney shook his head. "Like I told Parker, I'm not a picky eater. As long as there's no rice in it, I'm happy."

"No rice?" Jarod frowned slightly.

"Bad memories of bad food in Dachau," was all Sydney would say by way of explanation, but it was enough.

"Just make sure it's nutritious, Pez-boy," Miss Parker turned, wiping her hand on a kitchen towel. "No rice, but lots more vegetables and complex carbohydrates than sugar and fat, OK?"

"Picky, picky, picky," the Pretender shook his head and headed out the back door screen. "Later."

"I'm going to go see if my clothes are dry and fit to wear," she told her old friend, stopping by the table to drop a companionable hand on his shoulder. "I look like hell in Jarod's sweats."

Sydney looked up at her suddenly, his chestnut eyes filled with guilt. "I'm sorry you felt you had to tear yourself away from your life and your fine wardrobe just for me, Parker…"

"Stop that." The hand on his shoulder tightened, and she laid her arm across his shoulder to accompany it. "I'm not sorry, Syd — not one bit. Truth be told, I'm happier now with you and Jarod in this safe house hiding from the Centre than I have been… ever since I can remember. So don't you lay another guilt trip on yourself on my behalf, you hear me? A wardrobe can always be replaced."

She could tell from the defeated look on his face as he looked back down that she hadn't convinced him at all, so she pulled up a chair next to his and slipped into it. "OK. Talk to me. What's going on in your head that's pulling you down again?"

"Nothing that hasn't been going on in my head for a very long time," he told her with a sigh of resignation, "nothing that will ever really resolve itself properly. Oh, I can give myself a fresh start and pretend none of it ever happened, but…"

"Listen to me," she scooted closer and put her free hand on his arm as it lay on the kitchen table. "I think Jarod's right — you've gotten so used to blaming yourself that even now, even after Jarod turned himself inside out to convince you to give HIM a second chance, you haven't let go of the things he has and refuse to give YOURSELF the same second chance. If you hadn't noticed, we're not blaming you half as much as you're blaming yourself."

He stared at the table and the blank paper in front of him. "I told Jarod that the blame game is a game of habit. It isn't easy to turn a perspective around 180 degrees. I can't NOT blame myself."

"Well then," she said after a moment's thought, "if it's a question of perspectives, answer me this: would you let me continue to beat myself up for all the things I did, even after you'd told me it didn't matter anymore?"

"No, but…"

"Why are the rules different for me than for you, then?" she asked pointedly and waited for an answer.

"Because your errors weren't entirely your fault," he answered quickly. "Mr. Parker trained you well and taught you to see the world through very specific lenses. My lapses, on the other hand, were entirely my own doing…"

"Sydney, that's bullshit and you know it! Shame on you! You're a psychiatrist — I'm surprised you'd even let yourself get away with thinking like that," Miss Parker chided. "Yes, he taught me to look at and deal with the world on those terms — but it was my CHOICE to go along with it, especially later on. It was my CHOICE to brush you off the other day with an invitation to find a new mental masturbation partner rather than notice that you were so troubled and listen to you — Daddy didn't force me to do that."

"Parker…"

"No. You've made bad choices — we all have. Some of them were because we were misled or lied to. Some of them were because we wanted to go along with the flow just to cover our asses and survive the day. And some of them were because we just couldn't be bothered to break old habits." She let the arm across his shoulder slip so that she could rub his back. "What matters now is that we've decided not to let those bad choices we made before drag us down anymore. We're making a fresh start and choosing to make better choices from now on — all of us, right?"

Sydney glanced over into her understanding gaze and contemplating justifying to her his belief that he was more deserving of censure than either of the two of them but restrained himself. She was right — the decision to stay and use the breathing space to make a fresh start had been intended to give each of them a chance to let go of the past in hopes of creating a more satisfying future. If that space were to be given its full due, that meant even setting aside private guilts and blame games he'd been playing with himself for years.

Slowly he nodded. "I suppose you're right," he conceded softly.

"You suppose…" She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek. "God, but you're a stubborn man!" she exclaimed softly. "Have you always been this hard-headed, or am I just now getting to see this side of you?"

"You don't survive as long as I have at the Centre without being stubborn and knowing just how long and to whom you can stand up for what you think is right," he reminded her pointedly. "I've just been at it longer than you have — the habits are more deeply engrained."

"Well, consider this fair notice that I'm not going to let you get away with it anymore," she told in a gentle but no-nonsense tone. "I don't care how many other secrets you're still holding back on because you promised someone to say nothing. I don't care what you did back when. It's gone, it's done, and nothing can change it. All I'm interested in is now and where we go from here."

"Parker…" he began in a warning tone.

"Uh-uhn," she shook her head and put a finger up between them to silence him. "We're family now, and NOBODY hurts a member of my family without answering for it to me. And when it comes to you," she poked him gently in the shoulder, "I'm feeling particularly protective right now — understand?"

Sydney's lips quirked at the edges of a smile. "Speaking of stubborn…"

"Absolutely," she smiled back. "I'm the queen of impatience AND stubbornness — or hadn't you noticed?"

His gaze warmed fondly, and he found himself unable to resist cupping a hand gently against her cheek. "There's very little about you I haven't noticed at one time or another, Parker."

She leaned forward and let her forehead land on his shoulder. "There's been enough hurt going on. It's time to let it go. If not for your own benefit, then for mine." She felt him look down at her in surprise. "Please."

"For your benefit?"

"Yeah." She looked up at him with an enigmatic expression. "I don't want to hurt you in the process of protecting you from yourself, because that would give me the most horrible case of the guilts… Not to mention I might actually break a bone this time. My hand still hasn't entirely recovered from the last time, you know…"

Sydney started chuckling in spite of himself and then put an arm around her and drew her closer. "You're incorrigible, you know."

"You noticed that too?" she quipped back, enjoying the embrace for a long moment before pulling back. "Now, if I've managed to bump you out of self-condemnation mode, I still need to bump myself out of Jarod's clothes and back into my own while you see what you can remember about chemical compounds." She deposited yet another gentle kiss on his cheek and then straightened to head toward the front of the house and the stairs.

"Parker…"

She turned in response to his voice.

"Thanks."

The grin the lit her face was dazzling, and then she was gone. Sydney turned with a sigh back to the blank piece of yellow legal pad in front of him and closed his eyes. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, were pieces of the process that Jarod had sent to him which had nearly restored Angelo and had saved another stolen child from suffering Angelo's fate. Without conscious thought, he massaged his temples in an attempt to ease the dull ache that still lay behind them.

oOoOo

"What's that?" Miss Parker pointed at the thin plastic sack that still hung on Jarod's wrist after he'd put all the grocery sacks down on the kitchen counter. "I thought you were just going for groceries and a few sundries."

"I stopped at a farm supply store for you," he explained, keeping an eye on his volatile friend. "I took the liberty of checking the size labels on your clothes on the line on the way out and thought I'd get you at least a little something extra to wear rather than good clothes all the time — or my sweats." He plopped the mystery sack on the other end of the table from where Sydney was still sitting and opened it. "So, voila! Jeans," he announced, handing them over to her, "and a couple of tee shirts." He pulled them one at a time from the sack, handing the first one over without comment. But he paused with a mischievous smirk after displaying first to Sydney and then to Miss Parker the second shirt that had "Deal With It!" in bright red letters across the front of the black tee shirt. "I thought this one was particularly appropriate, considering our conversation before lunch…"

Sydney snorted and slapped a hand over his mouth quickly to keep from laughing out loud at the expression on Miss Parker's face. "Jarod, do you have a death wish?" he managed finally around some hearty chuckles that earned him a glare of his own. "Then again, Parker, you have to admit…" he added in self-defense and earned for himself another glare of frustration – at which he merely chuckled again.

She swept her hand out and snared the tee shirt from Jarod's display. "Cuuuuuuuute, Franken-Boy. Not funny, but cute." She dug through the grocery sacks until she'd found the peroxide and hair color box. "I'll leave you two to your low-brow amusements," she announced loftily and stalked from the kitchen after leaving the men with another glare each on the way out.

"She's mellowing," Jarod observed with a chuckle as he set about putting the groceries he'd purchased away.

"We're both lucky she didn't have her gun," Sydney shook his head at him. "Is this the way you've been picking on her all this time?"

"No. Actually this morning, I went after her with some grease from the bottom of her car."

"Jarod…" Sydney sighed in exasperation.

"She had it coming," Jarod complained. "She called me a common grease monkey after I'd gone to the trouble of finding all the bugs hidden in her car."

"You probably looked like a common grease monkey climbing out from under her car," Sydney retorted patiently. "Then again, I seem to remember the two of you trying to out-do the other with practical jokes back in the Centre…"

"We were best friends back then — and it was all in good fun." Jarod opened the refrigerator and began to stow the fresh vegetables. "And, to be honest, I wouldn't mind going back to that kind of friendship again with her."

"You're different people now — more mature. At least, you're supposed to be," Sydney added when Jarod shot him an amused smirk from around the refrigerator door. "I can tell you this much, I could always tell when you'd called her the night before. She'd be more out of sorts than usual — and Broots and I would sometimes have to tiptoe around her for the better part of the day for fear of getting our heads bit off."

"The only way I could get an honest reaction from her back then was to get her angry or upset," Jarod admitted finally, closing the refrigerator door and leaning his backside against the kitchen counter to face his old mentor. "Otherwise, I knew I was speaking to the Centre, not to HER."

"If you hadn't noticed, you don't need to get her angry anymore," Sydney pointed out carefully. "A little hi-jinx in good fun is one thing — but she's just as raw and vulnerable as either of the two of us are right now too. She doesn't need to be pushed into feeling defensive anymore than either of us do."

"The only time she'd get defensive was when I was trying to get her to face the lies she'd bought for all those years – or maybe when it would hit her that I was out here, and she was still stuck in the Centre. I think her being HERE with us now, and not back there, is a pretty clear indication that I don't need to do anymore convincing on that score." Jarod tipped his head and listened as the faint sound of running water over his head could be heard. He then looked over at his mentor. "I'm not going to pick on her just to make her mad anymore, Sydney. I promise."

"That tee shirt…"

"Oh c'mon, Sydney," Jarod shook his head at his mentor. "How much do you want to bet that when she comes downstairs again, she's WEARING that shirt? After all, SHE was the one claiming the position of 'Queen of Impatience' just this morning, remember?"

Sydney thought about it for a while and then sighed as he agreed that it was very likely that she'd wear the shirt just to get back at Jarod for having bought it in the first place. It would be quite out of character for her to walk away from a challenge like that. "I just hope she found a black and white striped shirt at the cabin for me if I'm to end up being a referee between you two."

"The only thing I promised her was that we wouldn't actually bicker with her anymore," Jarod told him with a confidential air. "The teasing has been a part of our relationship forever. It helps to keep things light between us when we're not arguing over something important. Or at least, it used to." Jarod's voice grew distant as he thought of the way he'd felt while holding her hand walking in from the beach just that morning.

Sydney watched his former protégé's face grow pensive at the thought of his relationship with his prickly ex-best friend. And for him it was a quick trip down memory lane, remembering how there had been several times when Jarod and Parker were much younger when he'd wondered if there had been something much deeper developing between the two. Mr. Parker had never made any bones about having sent Miss Parker off to boarding school to remove any influence might have come from her continued companionship with Jarod and Sydney. Certainly when she'd come back from the corporate offices to take over the search for Jarod, there was very little evidence of the friendly and companionable girl that had haunted the sub-level corridors years earlier.

"Penny for your thoughts, Sydney," Jarod said quietly, rousing the older man from his reverie.

Sydney blinked a couple of times to clear the cobwebs and return to the present moment. "I'm sorry – I didn't mean to fade out on you. I was just thinking…"

"I noticed," Jarod teased very gently.

The chestnut eyes flicked up into his. "I was just thinking about how close you two were once upon a time – and wondering if any part of that still survives between you." He held up a hand before his former protégé could protest. "It was an idle musing – I'm not expecting an answer from either of you. It isn't any of my business, I know..."

Surprisingly, Jarod moved to the kitchen table and sat down. "She confuses me, Sydney, always has. When I'm around her, my emotions get all tangled."

"So you tease her to keep the situation between you light – so that then you don't have to try to understand what's going on below the surface?" the psychiatrist probed very carefully.

"Maybe," Jarod admitted after a moment's thought. "I don't know…" Then he blinked and shook his head slightly. "You're right, though – we're all raw and very vulnerable to each other right now. I just think that now is not the time for me to be trying to make any sense out of the way I feel about her. We have other, much more important things to think about. For example…" he looked down at the top page of the legal pad that was now covered with diagrams and notations, "…how are you coming with remembering what I did for Angelo's injections?"

Sydney had to admire the smooth segue that Jarod had used to turn the topic of conversation away from anything emotionally confusing, and he responded by patiently turning the legal pad around so that the Pretender could see what he'd noted down. He knew what he'd written down was in no way a complete accounting for the formula, and he'd not even begun to detail the kind of ocular stimulation therapy that had accompanied the injections as an essential element of the treatment. Still, he'd done well, considering how long it had been since he'd had to exercise his memory in quite that manner.

Jarod looked up at him in surprise after flipping through all three pages of notes and fragmented formulas and diagrams. "This is remarkably complete, Sydney," he nodded, thoroughly impressed. "For someone who has only a basic physician's understanding of chemistry, you remembered a lot."

"Having a photographic memory has its uses," Sydney dismissed with a shrug. "What you see here are those parts of what you sent me that I actually looked at. The thing is, I didn't see the whole thing before turning it over to…"

"A photographic memory?" Jarod asked, his brows climbing. "You never told me…"

The psychiatrist merely shrugged again. "There was no need for you to know," he explained simply. "It wouldn't have contributed to your research at the time, nor did it have any bearing on our relationship as mentor and protégé."

"But it explains a lot," Jarod replied. "It tells me how, if you only had a basic understanding of how chemistry or physics worked, you were still able to teach me the more complex concepts and theories." He gazed at his mentor thoughtfully. "Tell me, did the Centre ever know you had this gift?"

"I made sure that they never had much reason to speculate." Sydney shook his head firmly, "although I'm surprised that they didn't wonder how I was able to at least get you conversant in advanced chemistry and physics — among other disciplines. If they had even suspected, I seriously doubt that I would have lasted as long as I did," he told him seriously. "You see, I had several opportunities to come into contact with some very sensitive information at the time. It very well could have cost me my life if the Tower knew that I need only look at a document for a short amount of time to be able to reproduce important parts of it again at a moment's notice."

"Including headings and dates and filenames?" Jarod had to struggle to keep the excitement out of his voice.

"Of course. That's how a photographic memory works, Jarod."

"Tell me," Jarod leaned forward, finally giving his old friend the clue to see that he was becoming quite excited, "what KIND of sensitive information was it you saw – and how long ago?"

Sydney stared into his former student's dark chocolate eyes blankly for a moment. "I saw so much over the years," he finally said, returning from a quick review of papers that would have been on Mr. Parker's desk during interviews that he would have seen in inverted position and yet been able to read and decipher with ease. "A lot of it I didn't understand at the time – or even now. Contract information for pharmaceutical breakthroughs, diagrams and floor plans for research complexes to be constructed in Asia and Africa…"

"Anything about the Pretender Project?"

Jarod watched in fascination as Sydney's gaze once more grew blank, and he knew that the old psychiatrist was sorting through memories of documents that had probably long since found their way either to the hardcopy archive deep in the Centre sublevels or had been incinerated when no longer deemed important. "Contracts of data sales," Sydney said finally, returning to the present with the headache he'd been battling all day starting to throb more insistently, "and contracts for simulations that you would eventually run." He blinked to clear his vision and sighed. "The Centre made a very hefty profit from your abilities, Jarod – and provided you wouldn't be seriously or permanently damaged in the process, they didn't worry about what the experiences would do to you." He looked down at his hands. "I managed to deflect a few of the more truly obscene inquiries on the grounds of the kind of psychological or emotional damage it would do to you – I could have done a better job, however…"

"Do you remember who the contracts were with?"

"Yes." Sydney's voice was quiet, sad – and the defeated quality that had once more returned caught Jarod's attention.

"Let it go, Sydney," the Pretender insisted quietly. "It's over now – the Centre isn't running my life or making you have to sit on an ethical fence anymore either. You did what you did, and it's over."

"I did – or didn't do – so MUCH, Jarod!" Sydney exclaimed, horror-struck, and then folded his arms across his chest as if he'd been hit by a blast of cold air. "I don't deserve… I'll never be able to atone…"

"You're doing it again," Jarod told him gently, making a point of putting a warm hand on one of those tightly folded arms. "You're being ten times harder on yourself than I am now. I've forgiven you — it's time you forgave yourself."

"I'm trying," Sydney buried his face in his hands. "God help me, I'm trying – but every time I think of the things I made you do, I find that I'm appalled and sickened." He meant the last literally, for the dull ache had begun to intensify.

"But Sydney, I survived," Jarod squeezed the arm. "I survived, and I have all my wits."

"Your nightmares…" the older man protested.

"My nightmares are more about being stolen from my family or about never being in a position to find them again, and less about the simulations you made me do. Or, once in a while, I'll dream about some of the experiments that Mr. Raines used to run on me when you weren't around during your yearly vacation."

"That's just it." Sydney's face dropped even further. "I failed you so badly."

"Sydney, stop it!" Jarod barked. "You did what you could, and God knows that the Centre – in the guise of Mr. Raines – was often just waiting for you to need to take a break so that they could get at me without your interference. You cannot hold yourself responsible for the things that Mr. Raines did."

"You didn't get vacations," Sydney persisted. "I shouldn't have taken them either."

"That's ridiculous – and besides that, 20/20 hindsight doesn't do either of us any good," Jarod stated firmly. "Listen. I didn't ask you about the Pretender Project to rub salt in your wounds. I'm hoping that you remember something that we can substantiate and then use against the Centre when we start our ball rolling for real." He squeezed the arm again. "I want you to remember, when you decide you just can't keep from taking a trip down that painful memory lane, that whatever documents you can remember that have a bearing that we might be able to exploit will be a step in your redemption. Neither of us can undo what we've been through – but we can damned well make a decision how we make use of those memories, can't we? We can either use them to beat ourselves over the head, or we can use them to make sure the Centre never does such things ever again."

Sydney massaged his throbbing temples, amazed at how similar the arguments that Parker had used with him and the ones that Jarod had just used were. "I honestly don't know how to stop blaming myself for the things I did – or the things that happened because I did nothing," he admitted finally in a soft voice to avoid making the throbbing behind his eyes any stronger. "Ever since you escaped, and the reality of what I'd been a part of got thrown in my face in such a way that I couldn't just ignore it anymore, I've been wondering how I could have been so blind for so long."

"It doesn't matter, Sydney – not to me, and not anymore. I don't want the life that I want to build from here on in built only on memories of the bad, and I'd rather you didn't build your new life on such things either." Jarod's gaze became soft and warm. "And look at it this way – if you were a truly evil man, like you seem to want to believe yourself to be, none of what went on before would bother you one iota. That you are suffering so much from your memories tells me – and should tell you – that you aren't half as bad as you want to make yourself out to be."

Sydney stared at Jarod, the new perspective almost making sense but now struggling against a persistent headache that was rapidly becoming so blinding that spots were beginning to dance before his eyes. In watching his mentor work to assimilate what he'd heard, Jarod saw the sudden loss of color in the older man's face. "Sydney?"

Sydney silently dropped his face into his hands once more, his fingers working the skin at his temples and bringing himself no relief at all this time.

"C'mon," Jarod exclaimed, springing to his feet and working to help his mentor stand. "I think you need to lie down. Headache?" Sydney nodded, his eyes closed and lips pressed tightly together against the slight nausea that came as he moved his head. "How long have you had it?"

"All day," Sydney managed in an almost whimper. "It's been getting steadily worse."

Jarod steered the older man into the living room and back onto the couch, then fluffed the pillows that were still there so that Sydney would be more comfortable when he tipped over into them. "You stay here," the Pretender insisted firmly, "while I go upstairs. I want to check your blood pressure, and I might have something for you to help take the edge off that headache."

"I'm not going anywhere, trust me," Sydney promised, throwing an arm across his eyes to try to stop seeing the bright lights and spots.

Jarod took the stairs two at a time and strode down the hallway to his room, where he dug through the huge duffle bag with so many of the accessories to his many-facetted professions for the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope he knew had probably filtered down to the bottom. A little more digging netted him the prescription strength ibuproophen bottle as well. Stethoscope draped around the neck and cuff and pills in hand, he began to stride back down the hallway in the direction of the stairs, only to nearly collide with Parker coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head.

"Watch it!" she cautioned, putting out a defensive hand. "Where's the fire?"

"Sydney's not doing well," Jarod said, making a quick detour around her and resuming his trek to the stairs. "I gotta go."

"Damn!" she breathed and turned, dropping the clothing she'd borrowed from Jarod back on the bathroom counter and then following in Jarod's footsteps at a trot. She took the stairs at the kind of pace that would have earned her a serious scolding from her mother in her childhood and then rushed into the living room just as Jarod started pumping air into the blood pressure cuff around Sydney's right arm. "Syd?" she asked, moving to the end of the couch behind Jarod and then perching on the arm of the couch behind his head. Her hand stroked across his forehead very gently in an attempt to smooth away the wrinkles of pain that had gathered there.

Jarod listened very carefully and then released the rest of the air from the cuff. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with real concern. "One sixty-three over one ten," he announced in a worried voice, looking down into an ashen face. "Sydney, we've got to get your blood pressure down before you give yourself a stroke, and right now I'm afraid giving you analgesics might not be doing you any favors." He thought quickly. "Do you remember those old biofeedback exercises you taught me back when?" Slowly the old man nodded. "I want you to do them now as if you had the machine hooked up to you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Sydney whispered and his eyes fluttered shut again.

Jarod dumped the stethoscope and the cuff on the coffee table and rose. He nodded at Miss Parker and gestured silently for her to continue to stroke Sydney's brow while he went over to the stereo and sorted through the CDs that were arranged on a nearby shelf until he found one that he wanted. He turned on the unit, adjusted the volume, and then inserted the CD into the changer. Soon the soft sounds of a gentle Mozart symphony were flowing from the speakers.

"Do you know how to take a blood pressure reading?" he asked Miss Parker quietly.

"Not really," she admitted, her eyes wide.

"I need to take a trip into town for a prescription for him – and I need you to keep a very close eye on how he's doing," Jarod explained. "So I want you to practice on me right now to make sure you know what you're doing." He talked her through the proper way to position the cuff and the stethoscope, how to fill and deflate the cuff, and then what to listen for. When she read off what he knew was a close approximation of his normal blood pressure, he gave a contented nod as he ripped the cuff away from his arm and handed it to her. "I want you to take his pressure every fifteen minutes until I get back," he instructed, "and keep the Mozart playing."

"Don't be long," she worried at him.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised her. "Keep him quiet – let him sleep if he actually can doze." He walked quickly and determinedly toward the kitchen, the back door, and the SUV parked outside without a single backwards glance.

Miss Parker reached up and pulled the towel from her head and shook out her wet hair that was now a golden blonde, dropping the towel at her feet. She gave a quick glance to her watch after putting the blood pressure cuff on the coffee table in easy reach. One sixty-three over one-ten was what Jarod had said was the pressure to start with. Her fingers stroked the pale brow again and again as the first fifteen-minute interval seemed to crawl by.


	6. Cautious Steps

Chapter 6 - Cautious Steps

If the sight of a blonde sitting on the arm of the couch at Sydney's head still stroking his forehead gently unsettled Jarod, he didn't give any indication. "Is he asleep?" he asked very softly when the storm-grey eyes came up to meet his as he walked in through the front door this time.

Miss Parker shook her head very slightly, and Sydney said, "No, I'm not," in a tight and painful tone.

Jarod dropped the white paper sack on the coffee table and headed immediately toward the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water. "What was the last BP reading?" he asked next.

"One forty-five over ninety-eight," she responded, looking back down at the man on the couch and letting her fingers run gently over his brow again. "That's better, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Jarod answered, seating himself on the coffee table and handing her the glass, after which he dug in the sack and pulled out a small bottle of pills. "But it's still dangerously high. When was the last time you had a physical, Sydney?"

"Years ago," came the response. "My schedule hasn't exactly allowed for it lately."

"Have you been diagnosed with hypertension before this?"

"No." Sydney shifted on the couch slightly. "Then again, I've never been in quite this situation before."

"Here." Jarod dropped a tablet in his mentor's hand and waited for the older man to open his eyes again before gesturing to Miss Parker to hand him the glass of water. "I want you to take this, and then no more dwelling on or talking about anything stressful for the rest of the day for you. How's the headache?"

"Still there, but not quite so bad anymore," Sydney answered, bringing himself up on an elbow so that he could down the pill and water and then handing the glass back to Miss Parker before lying back into the pillows. "At least moving doesn't make me queasy anymore, and I'm not seeing spots."

"We'll give this a chance to work, and once your blood pressure starts to look a little more normal, THEN we'll see about getting you some painkillers. I'm betting this is a stress-related migraine that you're brewing here." Jarod watched Sydney's face for a while before finally letting the change in Miss Parker's appearance sink into his consciousness. "Not bad," he commented approvingly, his eyes taking in the fact that her hair had dried into soft golden waves rather than the straight dark style he was used to seeing. "They'll have a hard time recognizing you — especially in THAT." His lips twitched — she had indeed put on the "Deal With It!" tee shirt, just as he'd expected.

"Either that or the tee shirt will be a dead giveaway," she replied and let her own attention return to the man on the couch. "Close your eyes, Syd, and try and sleep," she soothed, running her fingers across his brow again as she had been doing for the last hour. "Relax."

"I'm going to get my days and nights…"

"Never mind that," Jarod told him. "We can always get your cicadean rhythm back in sync with the rest of the world after we get your BP under control. Parker's right — try to relax and get some sleep."

Sydney's eyes opened and he finally saw for himself the changes Miss Parker had made to her appearance. "Who are you and what have you done with my Miss Parker?" he asked in a tired voice, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

"Now don't get too frisky on me, Freud," she warned with a gentle smile, touched at the possessive he'd used so automatically. "I'm still the same Queen of Impatience and Stubbornness you've known and loved all this time. This is just artificial stupidity, capisce?"

Sydney's eyes closed as he gave a brief and silent chuckle. "If you say so," he whispered in a fading tone.

"That's right, I do say so," she responded just as softly as she dropped a kiss onto the pale brow. "I'm going outside to talk to Jarod for a bit — I'll be right back. You rest now."

"'Kay," he whispered without moving or opening his eyes again.

"Come walk with me to the car for a minute," she suggested, pointing at the front door with her nose as she remembered just how keen Sydney's hearing could be. Jarod let her take the lead through the front screen and down the steps and halfway to the barn where her Boxster was once more hidden away. "All right — what happened?" she demanded very quietly, pulling the stethoscope from hanging onto her neck and then draping it more comfortably around her neck instead. "When I went upstairs to shower, you two were in fine spirits. Suddenly Syd has collapsed…"

"He's still having trouble giving himself the benefit of the doubt," Jarod replied, taking her elbow and leading her to a shady spot and then leaning against the weathered wood of the barn. "He's worrying himself to death with guilt — and his body has begun cooperating with the process. He said he's had the headache all day, and I'm starting to doubt that it has anything to do with either alcohol poisoning or right hooks."

She sighed and found a spot next to him to lean too. "But what are we going to do now? We need his help to plan what we're going to do — but I don't want to set him off like this every time we have to discuss the Centre."

"I think we're going to have to make most of the decisions and take care of most of the details between the two of us. We won't be deliberately keeping him out of the loop, but just not bothering him about them unless his participation is genuinely needed." Jarod bent down and picked a half-dried blade of grass and began folding it between his fingers. "I'm really worried about this latest development, Parker. His physical condition isn't being helped at all by his emotional distress. Had you noticed that he seemed to be under a lot of stress before…" He paused, "…before everything went to hell?"

"No, but then, I was pretty self-absorbed, trying to keep one step ahead of Lyle." She could see his concern and knew he was as worried as she was. "Well, was all the stress of your discussion worth it? Did he give you the formula you wanted?"

"He gave me enough that I shouldn't have any trouble filling in the blanks," Jarod nodded and then looked at her. "Did you know that Sydney has a photographic memory?"

"He what?" Miss Parker stared at him. "You're kidding, right?"

He shook his head. "He gave me chicken scratch for chicken scratch several pages of the formula that I gave to him to have Pharmaceuticals brew up for him back when — not all of it, to be sure, but enough of it that I have what I need plus some." He gazed at her. "He has nearly everything he's ever read neatly catalogued somewhere in his mind, including files on the Pretender Project and other goodies he saw on your father's desk sometimes over all those years at the Centre. We were talking about what else he HAD seen when the headache got so bad."

"Maybe we'd best not ask him to remember anymore then," she suggested fervently.

"I'm hoping that the medication I just gave him will help to fight off the stress he's been under from both the Centre and the disappointments he got from Michelle and Nicholas and the two of us. Right now, I think we should consider keeping the more delicate elements of what we're intending to do to get those boys and Angelo out of the Centre just between us in order to keep that stress level lower." He picked at his blade of grass with a fingernail, shredding the end of it. "But ultimately I'm hoping that if we get his hypertension under control, we'll eventually be able to access that photographic memory of his safely so that he can give us more ammunition to use when the time comes."

"I don't think it's a good idea to rely on his memory all that much." She shook her head at him. "Let's see if we can manage without him accessing his memories very much at all, Jarod. To be honest, I'm beginning to see a pattern here: every time he starts to remember, he starts to feel guilty and gets himself all upset again. For now, let's just give him a relaxing and restful rest of the day and a decent night's sleep tonight — and then we can take the day off tomorrow for real with not one mention of the Centre or the way things used to be allowed from any of us. You and I can be hashing through floor plans and time schedules privately or when he's resting. But when Syd's around, we can think about more trivial details instead — like how we're going to change your appearance and his to avoid being spotted. It should satisfy him because we'd still be proactive, but we wouldn't be doing anything very stress-causing."

"I figured I could shave my head and grow a beard," Jarod smirked at her, "maybe do a few tattoos on my hands and arms with a ballpoint pen. You wouldn't believe how well that worked when I did a Pretend as an ex-con…"

"I can see you growing the beard," she agreed, "and maybe doing a fake tattoo or two. But ix-nay on the aving-shay."

Jarod blinked. "Say what?"

She smirked at him. "Haven't you learned Pig Latin yet?"

He blinked again. "PIG Latin?"

She sighed and shook her head at yet another gap in his understanding of pop culture. "I think we'd better get back in and check his BP again. And while we do, I'll teach you the rules to using Pig Latin." She shook her head and pushed away from the barn in the direction of the house. "I swear — the things I do to help you catch up with the contemporary world…"

"It sure didn't sound like any Latin I know," he commented, straightening and dropping the frayed piece of grass to follow in her footsteps.

"And you speak Latin, I suppose," she tossed back over her shoulder tartly.

"Of course, don't you?"

She sighed again.

oOoOo

By the time the savory smells from the kitchen roused Sydney next, the light in the living room had dimmed considerably. Once more he found that he'd been tucked in comfortably beneath the old plush quilt from the back of the couch. However, when he strained to listen this time, he could hear the sound of low voices coming from the direction of the kitchen. He lay quietly for a moment, trying to decide if the headache that had haunted him the entire day was actually gone or had just abated considerably.

It was when he finally worked up the ambition to try to sit up and drop his legs over the edge of the couch that he realized that the headache had only abated somewhat. The movement of sitting up had made his head swim slightly to the point that he needed to sit very still for a moment until the world settled back down again before trying anything else. His one arm felt slightly more constricted than the other, and it took a few moments to realize that it was the blood pressure cuff still wrapped around his upper arm. He pulled on the loose end and eventually heard the sound of Velcro ripping away from itself – and then his arm was free.

"Syd? Are you awake in there?" Parker's voice called from the kitchen.

"Finally," he returned, unable to stifle a yawn as he folded the cuff and put it on the coffee table.

"Don't get up yet," he heard Jarod direct at the same time he heard a kitchen chair move across the linoleum. Moments later, the tall Pretender had joined him. "I want to see how your BP is doing before you get up and start moving very much."

"I do feel better," Sydney admitted as he watched Jarod expertly rewrap the cuff around his arm and then begin to inflate it.

Jarod listened carefully as the cuff slowly deflated, and then smiled up into his mentor's face as he let the last of the air out in a rush. "I'm not surprised," he commented with a note of relief in his voice. "One thirty-four over ninety-two. Still high, but a helluva lot closer to a healthier level than you were a while ago. How's the headache?"

"A dull ache in the back of my head right now," Sydney answered. "You'd think with all the sleep I've had today, I'd have slept it away by now."

"Come on out to the kitchen with me," Jarod said, pulling the cuff from Sydney's arm again and dropping it and the stethoscope on the coffee table. "Parker's almost got supper ready, and I think you can handle a pain pill now that should take care of the rest of that nagging headache of yours."

"Whatever she's making smells good," the older man stated with an appreciative sniff of the air before pushing himself to his feet. "What is it?"

"Some kind of hamburger and pasta casserole," Jarod shrugged, moving out of the way so that Sydney could have a clear path to the kitchen. "I've never seen anybody cook that way before – just pull down cans and packages of ingredients and throw them into a pot without a recipe or measuring anything."

"If it tastes half as good as it smells, I wouldn't complain much," Sydney counseled quietly. "Our Miss Parker is a lot more domesticated than we were led to believe, it seems."

"Just don't broadcast it around much," Miss Parker commented from her post at the stove, once more finding the automatic and unthinking use of a possessive with her name the equivalent of a verbal hug. "That kind of talk can ruin a girl's bad reputation."

"To whom do you suggest we NOT broadcast it, Parker?" Jarod quipped from behind Sydney. "There's only the three of us here – and trust me, your reputation's already shot with us."

"Jarod…" Sydney sighed in warning.

"What do you mean by 'my reputation's already shot', Genius?" Miss Parker retorted back, turning and holding up a wooden spoon threateningly.

"I think I'll retreat to the table, where it's safer," Sydney muttered to himself after sighing again, although feeling somewhat relieved that the levels of stress and concern about his welfare that had been pouring from his young comrades were now lessened to the point that they felt comfortable verbally playing and teasing each other again.

"I mean," Jarod answered while keeping a careful eye on the messy spoon, "that we have already figured out that the 'Ice Queen' can cook. What did you THINK I meant?"

"Good answer, Lab Rat," she replied, pointing the spoon at him and then returning her attention to the stove. "Why don't you make yourself genuinely useful and get the teapot and mugs over to the table? As for you, you go ahead and sit down, Syd. How are you feeling now?"

"Much better," Sydney responded, scooting his chair closer to the table, "although I'm almost positive now that I'm not going to get a wink of sleep tonight."

"That I doubt," Jarod shook his head. "The pill I put at your place is the pain med I promised you – you'll need to take that one sometime during the meal. When it gets a little later, however, I have an over-the-counter sleep aid for you if you don't seem to be getting drowsy on your own. You do need a good night's sleep tonight, Sydney – hopefully we won't need to give you one out of a bottle tomorrow evening."

"What all did I miss this afternoon?" the older man asked, reaching up and relieving Jarod of the hot teapot so that the Pretender could put the mugs at each place without dropping one. Then Sydney began carefully filling each mug.

"Not much," Miss Parker replied, donning stove mitts and carrying the hot stoneware casserole dish to the table and putting it down on the trivet in the middle. "We discussed ways to change our appearances – yours and Jarod's specifically – to hopefully make us blend into the crowd from now on. I've pretty much handled my own now…"

"It does look good," Sydney said after taking a good look at her as she sat down next to him. She genuinely did look good as a blonde – and certainly looked nothing like the Miss Parker that belonged in Delaware.

"She taught me Pig Latin," Jarod piped up as he slipped into his seat and reached for the spoon.

"Important stuff like that," Parker continued. Her hand flashed out and slapped Jarod's away from the spoon before he could get a good grip on it. "Syd's older and he's been under the weather – he gets first dibs."

"Parker, let him go ahead…" Sydney shook his head at her.

"There's enough for all of us," she countered, making sure the spoon was moved so that it was most available to him. "He doesn't need to be a pig just because he can speak Pig Latin now." The grey eyes were dancing with mischief. "Besides, it's about time he learned a few rules of living with a family – namely the one about how the elders of the family get served first."

"Is that how it was in your family, Parker?" Jarod asked, fascinated, and was more than willing to back off and let Sydney take his helping first.

"Absolutely."

"My mother always served us boys first," Sydney remembered in a soft voice, "mostly because I think we'd have made too much noise at the table if she didn't get us stuffing our faces quickly." He took a small bite of the casserole after blowing on it to cool it a bit and then hummed in appreciation. "Jarod's right, Parker – despite what you told me this morning, you ARE a good cook. If your reputation depends on nobody knowing that fact, then I'm sorry to report that it really is 'shot', as Jarod put it, among the three of us."

She grinned at him and tucked an errant tendril of wavy, golden hair behind an ear as she took the serving spoon from Jarod and began to dish up her own plate. "I'm still working through the simple stuff I learned from Momma, Syd. Today scrambled eggs and casserole – tomorrow you may be sorry…"

"Where you got your skill from is immaterial," the psychiatrist pronounced with a glint in his eyes. "Face it. You Can Cook."

"Thank you," she finally allowed graciously and took her own first bite. She chewed appreciatively for a moment and then swallowed. "Now, Jarod's thinking of growing a beard and maybe using a ball-point pen to give himself some fake tattoos. Other than dressing YOU in something even more informal than that…" she pointed at the turtleneck and dress trousers Sydney was wearing, "…what do you think? Grecian Formula?"

Sydney groaned. "Just what I need at my age," he commented wryly, "purple hair."

"Is that what that stuff really does?" Jarod asked Miss Parker with wide eyes.

"Brown, not purple," she insisted, giving Jarod an exasperated look and then looking back at Sydney. "OK — no Grecian Formula. Do you have any other ideas then?"

"I suppose I could start a moustache and let my hair grow in the style of an over-the-hill hippy," he stated around another bite of supper, "and maybe go for the addition of a pair of eyeglasses. But I do draw the line at hair color." He ran a hand over his receding hairline and reached for his fork again. "I prefer the silvered, distinguished, look – and not an overly-generalized extinguished one that comes out of a cheap bottle of hair color."

"I think Jarod's going to need something other than his black tees and jeans," Miss Parker turned her attention to her former best friend.

Jarod swallowed quickly. "I still want to shave my head…" he said, obviously continuing a previous discussion.

Sydney struggled to swallow the food in his mouth before he choked. "What?"

"Between a goatee, tattoos and a shaved head, I'd look more like an ex-con than an ex-Pretender," Jarod defended his idea. "Add a cool set of shades…"

"Can you talk some sense into him, Syd?" Miss Parker asked in a desperate tone. "He's not listening to me…"

"Jarod," Sydney put his fork down and sipped at his tea to help the food go down, "the idea is to get people to NOT notice you. Shave your head, and you'll stand out even more than you already do…"

"But not for the same reason," Jarod insisted.

Sydney shook his head in disbelief. "Parker's right. The goatee and the tattoos and a change of color scheme in your informal attire should suffice – shaving your head would be overkill," the psychiatrist told him firmly. "Remember, it also will need to make sense that the three people we appear to be would actually associate with each other."

"See?" Parker smirked at him from across the table. "I TOLD you that he'd agree with me…"

"Oh, shut up."

"Oh good heavens…" Sydney breathed in exasperation, scowling at both of them for a display of something that definitely resembled sibling rivalry. "If we've settled that now, then tell me what you've decided about handling the Centre."

Jarod and Miss Parker exchanged brief and sharp looks.

"We'll talk about that part of it later, Syd," Miss Parker grew suddenly serious and put a gentle hand on her old friend's upper arm. "Jarod and I are still talking logistics and details; and right now, YOU need to forget all about that."

"I can't just forget, Parker," Sydney protested. "You know that…"

"Then you can trust us that we're not just letting things go," Jarod added his voice to Miss Parker's. "Until we know that we have your health stabilized, we're going to try not to have you dwell on the kinds of things that have been raising hell with your emotions and driving your blood pressure through the roof." He saw his mentor's brows fold together and anticipated the complaints to come. "Just for a day or so, Sydney – until we know you're doing better."

"My health isn't the most important thing…" Sydney complained anyway.

"For us, right now, it IS," Miss Parker pronounced in a voice that made clear that there was no possible argument on that point. "There's no way in hell that we're sacrificing you in the process, Syd, so forget it. Relax. And like Jarod says, trust us. We won't leave you out of the loop, and we're not delaying or postponing anything. I promise."

Sydney's head swiveled fast enough to tweak at the dull ache, and he pinned Jarod's gaze with his own. "Really?"

"Really." Jarod was just as determined. "Trust us."

"I really need to be a part of getting that little boy out of there," Sydney insisted, his voice wavering. "I don't think you understand…"

"We understand, Syd," Miss Parker told him sympathetically. "And you WILL be a part of getting him out. But we need you well first so you CAN be a part of it."

"We're doing this together, the three of us, just like we said we would," Jarod assured him. "But your part in this right now is to get busy recuperating. We're going to need your help when the time comes, and we're going to need you relatively healthy and able to handle stress again to a certain extent before then."

"I'm holding you back then?" Sydney asked, disappointed in himself again.

"Not at all," Jarod shook his head vigorously. "There are a lot of things to put into motion before we can do much of anything with any hope of success – and that would be my end of the process to begin with. At this point, there isn't much you can do to help anyway…"

"You were saying before that you wanted me to remember documents…"

"Later, Syd. Later." Miss Parker was now shaking her head. "When we get closer to starting our ball rolling, THEN we'll see about what you remember."

"I need to hear back from Angelo, and I need to hear back from my friends in the FBI," Jarod told him, shooting a look at Miss Parker to keep her from protesting too much. After all, this was the kind of information that they'd both previously agreed that Sydney needed to avoid for the time being. "Until I get information from both places, Sydney, we're pretty much dead in the water – except for changing our appearances and getting you back on your feet health-wise again. So you see, you really aren't holding anybody back; and until we have a few more irons in the fire, getting you to remember documents would only serve to upset you again. We don't need to do that."

"Think of it this way," Miss Parker piped up, shooting Jarod her own sharp look, "you're not alone in making this work – so let us do our part and stop trying to carry the whole load alone anyway. Your turn will come, believe me."

"So what will I do in the meantime?" Sydney sounded just a bit lost. "I can't just sleep all the time…"

Jarod thought for a moment and then began to smile. "Maybe we can finally go fishing, like we talked about a long time ago."

Miss Parker looked down into her plate and dug her fork into her helping of supper, totally unaware of the kind of connection that Jarod was suggesting to Sydney or how important making that connection could possibly be to the both of them. "Just remember, Pez-head, if you catch it, you clean it."

"I think we can handle that, Parker," Sydney told her gently and then turned and nodded at Jarod, his chestnut eyes bright and calmer again. "Fishing sounds like a good idea."

Jarod walked through the freshly cleaned kitchen and retrieved his tea mug from the table where he'd left it. He looked around and then smiled as he finally saw movement just outside the back screen door. He grabbed up her tea mug from the table too and pushed his way through the screen. "Here," he said, handing the mug down to where she was sitting on the back step and then sat down next to her.

"Thanks," Miss Parker said automatically, returning to stare out into the darkness over the lake. "Is he asleep?" she asked finally, shifting so that she was closer to the banister to put a little space between them and then sipping at the tepid tea.

"If he isn't now, he soon will be," Jarod assured her. "Considering his condition, he's not going to be able to fight off the sleep aid for long." Knowing how his mentor loved chess, he'd hauled out the set that he'd used many times with the man who owned the house and set it up at the kitchen table. While Parker had cleaned the kitchen, the two had played a quiet and relaxing game — after which Jarod had given Sydney the sleeping pill and sent him up to bed. In a demonstration of just how poorly he did feel despite the relief the pain pill had provided, Sydney hadn't argued with the directive at all but trudged slowly and willingly up the stairs.

She was quiet for a long time, watching the stars slowly blink on in the night sky. Then: "He's in a lot worse shape than we thought."

"That's for sure," he nodded and sipped at his tea silently for a while. "I don't know about you," he began finally, "but I've always considered Sydney perpetual — I thought that he'd always be there, that he'd always have that patient, slightly amused or pensive look on his face, never truly getting excited or emotional about much of anything." He fell silent for another long moment. "I guess I never saw him as fully human before — or anything less than one hundred percent in control of himself."

"That's kind of the way I saw Da… Mr. Parker," Miss Parker replied after a long and quiet moment of her own. "And, I suppose, I've been looking at Sydney the same way too without thinking about it. Maybe that's why I'm so worried — every time I've had a parent's mortality brought to my attention, I lost them very soon thereafter." She fell silent for a moment while she marshaled her emotions under control again. "I don't want to lose Sydney — not now."

"I know," Jarod replied gently. "I don't either."

"I love Sydney as if he really were my father," she announced softly, voicing her own emotion for the first time. "I really do love him," she repeated just a little more softly, amazed at herself for the ability to actually give voice to such a thing and letting the truth of it sink in a bit. "He's the father I never had, and someone I want to get to know a helluva lot better than I have so far."

"I know what you mean, but my time with him has never been entirely smooth." He sipped at his tea unhappily. "I love him too — he's the closest thing I've ever had to a father — but…"

"He was a part of what you ran away from…" Miss Parker understood what he was trying to say. "And despite whether you've forgiven him or not, he still was a part of that."

"When I wanted him as a father-figure, when I asked him in so many words, he refused — he refused to even respond," Jarod added. "I know why now, I understand… I even sympathize with why he felt compelled to refuse — but it hurts. Even knowing that no matter what he told me, he loved me like a son after all, his refusal back when I needed him so badly still hurts."

"That leaves an awful lot of ground for you to cover with him one of these days," she commented after a long silence. "That also means, I suppose, that my job eventually will be to take care of Syd when everything's said and done — whether I'm taking care of a little brother or not, and regardless of whether you're still with us or not."

"If he'll let you," Jarod reminded her gently.

"I think he'd let me a whole lot easier than he would you. His horrible sense of guilt centers more on you and your time together than on me, so he's more willing to allow me closer than he does you because our relationship hurts less." She turned and looked at his silhouette next to her. "Can you see now how forgiving and forgetting end up being two different things altogether?"

He nodded. "It's pretty hard not to see it now." He sipped at his tea and then set the empty mug down on the porch behind him. "You know, I'm really quite jealous of the relationship you have with him now."

Somehow she didn't find this surprising except in the way he was willing to voice his feelings so openly. "Jealous? Why?"

"Because you ARE close to him," he replied in a carefully schooled voice, "because you don't have that barrier of past hurts to overcome, because when he looks at you, he doesn't get a horrible feeling of guilt and failure. Mostly because he treats you the way a father should treat a child he loves…" His voice broke slightly. "Despite everything, I evidently still don't rate with him." He threw his head back and took a long and shaky breath. "God, I always used to think that it was a joke when someone would say 'Dad always loved you more than he did me,' but suddenly I'm not finding it very funny anymore."

Miss Parker finished her tea and put her mug down on the step by her knee, and then she turned and put a gentle hand to his upper arm. "Give it time — for both of you. That's part of what we're here to do, you know — to get over some of those huge obstacles that we've let grow up between us, especially between you two. Syd needs to learn how to look at you and not feel guilty, you need to learn to look at Syd and not feel cheated, and you both need to learn how to love each other properly for a change." She patted the arm. "I just have a head-start on you when it comes to connecting with Sydney, that's all — probably because I've been around him a helluva lot more than you have lately. Once you two really clear the air, however, I think you'll find that although he may love us in different ways, it probably wouldn't be a question of more or less."

"I want… I really need… to find a way to connect to Sydney, somehow," he declared vehemently. "He and I share something that I'll never have with my real father — and I don't want to just walk away from it. One of the things I told him last night was that I could hardly hope to put anything together with a father and a family I didn't know if I couldn't hold it together with him. I just don't know how to completely set aside the disappointment from back when. I don't know if I can."

"I think Syd desperately needs to connect to you too," she replied in much the same tone, "and he's having just as hard a time setting aside his feelings of guilt and shame as you are with your feelings of disappointment and defensiveness. The thing is that I'm afraid if something doesn't give pretty soon, it could kill him just as surely as a gun to the head. You two have a very big, very difficult job ahead of you — maybe that fishing idea isn't such a bad way to put you two together so you can really hash some of that stuff through."

"We were going to go fishing as a way to help him relax and get away from the stressful stuff, Parker," Jarod reminded her sadly. "I don't want to connect to him only to give him a stroke in a rowboat."

"Maybe you're going at this from the wrong angle," she replied as a thought occurred to her. "Maybe the best way for you two to learn to set things aside is for you to stop trying so hard — just relax, both of you, and enjoy the other's company. Try talking to each other like friends or like a father and son would rather than always from the standpoint of mentor and protégé. Maybe the obstacles will drop away by themselves when you both aren't working so hard on them that you end up perpetuating and strengthening them instead."

Jarod sat there for a long moment, thinking through what she'd said and hearing the wisdom. Then, "What about you?"

"What about me what?"

"What is it that you need to learn while we're here?" he probed gently. "You've got a pretty good handle on what Syd and I need to do — what about you?"

She retrieved her hand from his arm and dropped it back into her lap as she stared out at where the dark water of the Great Lake stretched until it touched the star-studded darkness of the night sky. "I guess I need to learn to accept that outside the Centre, loving a person isn't always a weakness to be hidden away so it won't become a liability."

"And that being able to cook isn't a sin?" he teased very gently.

"No, I guess it isn't," she admitted with an ironic chuckle, then sobered again. "Most importantly, I need to learn how NOT to be an 'Ice Queen' or bitch all the time. You've been right all this time, it isn't the real me — and I need to learn to leave those personas back at the Centre, where they belong. Out here, I need to learn how to be a daughter — and a friend. Somehow, somewhere, I lost touch with what that really means."

He could hear the hesitancy and apprehension in her tone as she openly exposed her own failings to a person other than Sydney. She had come a long way in a very short time to be able to even admit such things him — before, mere mention of them had driven her into a defensive rage. "How did we ever get to this state, Parker?" he asked softly.

"I don't know, Jarod," she replied in a whisper, shaking her head, "I honestly don't know. All I know for sure is that I don't want to stay in this condition anymore, now that I've finally found Sydney and… and you…" she hesitated on the final admission just a bit. "Whatever happens from here on, I don't want to jeopardize any of this." She looked over at his silhouette again very briefly. "You told me once about turning points. I've taken one — and now I want to make sure I find out where this new road leads."

Jarod thought about it for a moment, and then decided to act on his impulse. He reached over into her lap and claimed gentle possession of the hand that had just recently been on his arm. "I'm glad we're walking this road together for a change," he said, lacing his fingers among hers.

"Me too," she replied, her fingers curling just enough that she was holding his hand in the same way he was holding hers. She looked back out over the dark water feeling a warm sense of inner peace and contentment stealing over her. It made no sense — she was on the run from the Centre and holed up with a clinically depressed, recently suicidal and still unstable psychiatrist and an equally fugitive and infinitely infuriating Lab Rat. And yet here she was, happier than she'd been since the sound of gunfire in an elevator had stolen her mother away when she was a child. What was more, having Jarod's hand in hers and having him sitting next to her on the porch steps had ended up being one of the most satisfying experiences she'd had with anyone for a long time.

With a deep breath she decided not to question what was going on but just to enjoy the feeling of comaraderie and cooperation that was flowing between them. If there was more going on between them, this was neither the time nor the place to explore it. There would be time enough for that later, after the more urgent matters were settled.

Jarod unabashedly kept his eyes trained on the woman sitting quietly next to him, her face outlined by the dim silver-blue light of the moon slowly coming over the eastern horizon. Once more, for the second time today, she was willingly leaving her hand in his — and this time, not so much for comfort as in a gesture of united purpose and friendship. Too many years had passed since he'd been this close to his best friend at a time when neither was threatened and neither was trying to assume control of the situation. Even their brief moment on the Island of Carthis hadn't had this atmosphere of calm and protected serenity — although there was a growing sense of singularity of purpose that was familiar. Inside the house behind them was a man that both of them considered a dearly loved surrogate father whom they were determined to protect and nurture back to health. Inside the Centre half a continent away, two small boys and an odd little man that both urgently wanted away from there were being held.

He took a deep breath and decided to follow her advice not to question or work too hard at what was going on. There was a communion going on here that needed to be simply enjoyed and appreciated rather than analyzed to death. If there were something more going on between them, it would have to wait until other, more important matters were settled first.

After that, however…


	7. Confessions & Insights

Chapter 7 - Confessions and Insights

Miss Parker jerked awake, abruptly pulling herself out of the nightmare and then lying against her pillow, breathing hard. Just variations on a theme, she told herself ruefully — now that she'd admitted to herself and to Jarod that she cared for Sydney far more than she'd ever been willing to acknowledge, it was logical that her nightmares would exploit that new and fresh vulnerability to the maximum. She couldn't remember many of the details, but the last thing she could remember was being faced off with Jarod over Sydney's open grave, listening to the Pretender's accusations of "why didn't you take care of him better?" That had been more than enough.

She threw the covers back and rose, reaching for the sweatshirt that Jarod had loaned her while her good clothes had dried. It had been too much of a temptation for her to hang onto those oversized garments in which she positively swam — and now she was glad that she still had them. Pulling on the sweatpants for warmth and tying the string tightly around her waist so they wouldn't fall off her slender hips, she opened the door and started down the corridor toward the stairs. But before she set foot on the top step, she turned around and headed back the way she came, past her own bedroom door to Sydney's, and opened it after knocking very softly. The sounds of soft snoring came from amid tumbled covers, reassuring her that he truly was still there — not laid out in a grave somewhere. She moved like a shadow across the darkened room to stand over him with her arms folded across her chest as she watched him sleep.

She had sometimes stood and watched Tommy sleep like this on those nights when her dreams hadn't given her any respite. And now that so much of her sense of well being was wrapped up in this man, she felt driven to stand guard over his rest just as she had stood guard over Tommy. Not that she had done Tommy much good in protecting him from being murdered by the Centre, however. As Sydney rolled onto his side toward her in his sleep, and his snoring faded away to just soft breathing, she suddenly realized what she was doing and was mortified. What if he should awaken to see her in his bedroom standing over him? How could she hope to begin to explain what had driven her to enter his room uninvited? She backed out the way she had come before he could be roused and then pulled the door very softly closed, giving him back his privacy.

Once more she set off down the corridor, and this time walked down the steps. She cringed at the thought of waking somebody as the step third from the bottom creaked beneath her weight. She headed toward the back of the house and the kitchen, turning on the light and going to the cupboard for a glass for a drink of water. Once she had that, she walked over, sat down heavily at the kitchen table and leaned her forehead into her hand tiredly. After a few moments, she took up the glass and half-drained it, and then set it down again and played absently with a tendril of wavy blonde hair that had fallen down her cheek.

It was a strange feeling, trying to rediscover who she really was on the inside while doing her best to become someone else on the outside. Syd would have a field day analyzing the psychological ramifications of her dilemma, were he in any shape to practice any psychiatry right now — and knowing him, all she'd have to do would be mention how she was feeling, and he'd be ready and willing to try anyway. But that was just a superficial consideration – the bigger question was one with which nobody could truly help her, and she knew it.

Who WAS she? Jarod kept telling her that the way she'd been behaving all these years and the things she'd been saying weren't really her — but how did he know? All he knew was those parts of a lonely pre-teenaged girl who had wandered the corridors of the Centre sub-levels with him after hours — and that girl had not existed for over twenty-five years now. Had she ever existed as a "real" person, or had she always been nothing but a Centre construct to begin with?

She ran her fingers through her hair, drawing it back from her face in a habitual gesture, and then pulled more of it forward where she stared at it for a long moment. Then she threw it back over her shoulder and cradling her water glass as it sat on the table. Not knowing who she really was would soon have to take a back seat to other, more urgent, considerations. In a while, with any luck at all, she would be the guardian of a small child — her little brother — whom she hadn't seen in months now.

It was hard to believe that she'd managed to forget him so easily when the time had come for her to escape the Centre and take a fragile Sydney with her. While she'd not exactly been close to the child, she had tried to be around enough that he'd feel he knew her as he grew up. Then Raines had stepped in and forbid her from spending time with the boy. She'd tried several times to demand access to him anyway — and had actually been carried bodily from Raines' office the last time by Willy and set down again outside the frosted glass doors with a stern warning never, EVER, to try that again — all to no avail. Nobody would tell her where he'd been taken in the labyrinthine sub-levels, and no amount of pushing Broots had gotten her past the security surrounding his whereabouts within the computer system. The glimpse of him the day before on Jarod's laptop had been her first in longer than she wanted to admit — and the boy had grown quite a bit since last she'd seen him.

Thinking of her cowardly but valiant computer technician reminded her that the first time she'd been in a position of taking care of a child, however reluctantly, it had been Broots' daughter Debbie. She'd been so confident of her skills that after less than a day she'd run down to the Sim Lab begging a very busy Sydney to take the load from her. "I don't 'do' Mommy!" had been her plea – but Sydney had been too busy to take over and had just given her what little advice she'd used to make the episode more of a success then she truly deserved. She'd been a little less reluctant when circumstances dictated that she take care of the girl again — and then she had abdicated the responsibility for the child by putting Sam in charge of the job while she continued unhampered. What made her think that she was any more ready to take on a permanent 'Mommy' job for a toddler NOW than she'd been to baby-sit a half-grown and well-behaved young lady back then?

Then again, what would she do about Angelo? He'd literally lived his entirely life underground, mostly haunting the ventilation ducts and air conditioning vents that made the sub-levels like a rabbit warren. Even Mr. Raines didn't know how to find him three quarters of the time — and she'd long since come to the conclusion that those times that Raines had actually found him had been times when Angelo had actually wanted to be found. Taking him away from the only home he'd known — with the exception of the brief time he'd spent outside with Jarod while still under the influence of the therapy that Sydney had given him — could prove very hard on her old friend. If she had the little boy to care for, she wouldn't be able to give Angelo the kind of care he might need — and it was questionable if Sydney would be in any condition to pick up the slack.

She sagged. For once in her life, she wasn't sure she was up to the challenge that had been set for her — not alone, at any rate. There was no doubt that, if asked, Sydney would help her as much as he was able. But that was assuming that he could regain most of his health and strength in the few days of peace and calm remaining before… before whatever it was that Jarod would put in motion started to roll on its own. From Jarod's manner, she could easily see that the Pretender was worried that Sydney wouldn't manage that feat, and her worries were built upon his. Jarod would know — for while she was keeping track of Sydney's emotional health, Jarod was by far more informed about the man's physical wellbeing.

The possibility that frightened her the most, now, was that once everything was over and done with, Jarod would decide to just vanish again. After all, since his escape, Jarod had been the ideal manifestation of a will o' the wisp — never staying long enough in one place to establish any kind of ties or roots. There was literally nothing guaranteeing that he would stick around once Sydney's health had resolved itself one way or another and after the rescue attempt was concluded. This stint with them on the banks of Lake Superior was most likely nothing more than just a slightly more personal Pretend for him. The fact was that Jarod still had a family yet to find and a fierce if not obsessive dedication to doing precisely that, no matter what. All things considered, she couldn't really blame him if he decided to go back to that search once her safety and that of Sydney and the boy and Angelo were settled.

God, she'd miss him…

The sound of shuffling feet behind her roused her from her uncomfortable musings, and she turned to look in surprise as a disheveled-looking Sydney came into the kitchen. A button-down flannel shirt hung limply over trousers from which the suspenders dangled and his face was coarsely bristled and in desperate need of a shave. "What are you doing up at this hour, Freud?" she asked him as he made his way to the cupboard and, as she had not long before, took down a glass for some water. "I thought that pill would have put you down for the count."

"It did, for a while," he replied, filling the glass and carrying it over to the table to take a seat close to hers. "I'm not exactly sure what did wake me up – but I decided I needed at least a glass of water before I'd be able to sleep some more." His warm but sleepy chestnut eyes studied her expression. "What's your excuse?"

"Nightmares," she stated with a dismissive shrug, "and wondering what the hell I think I'm doing getting ready to take on the job of raising my little brother." She looked at him without flinching. "Remember back when I told you 'I don't do Mommy?' I'm just afraid that I'll botch things…"

"Nonsense," Sydney shook his head. "You didn't know Debbie when you took on the job of taking care of her – but that isn't the case with your little brother. You've felt close to him ever since the day he was born, I've seen it in your face." He picked up the glass of water and paused before putting it to his lips. "The connection you already feel for him will carry you through – you'll do just fine, Parker." He took a sip.

"Not alone." The qualifier slipped out before she could stop it.

"As you and Jarod keep reminding me, you're not alone," Sydney told her gently. "You have both Jarod and me…"

"For as long as Jarod wants to be with us," she added in a wry tone. "All it will take will be for him to get the itch to find his own mom and dad again, and you know damned well that he'll dump us the moment he thinks we're in a safe and secure place."

"Yes, I suppose that is a possibility," he allowed with a nod and then sipped at his water again thoughtfully for a moment. "But that still doesn't leave you alone. I'd still be there for you as much as I can – I have no intention of walking away and leaving you, Parker, especially now. I told you before, you're all I have left in the world — besides Jarod." He looked down. "You two are the only family I have anymore."

"I know," she conceded as she put out a hand to him and had him take her hand in hers. "But you have to admit, it's a big challenge to think that I… we… would be able to handle a toddler and Angelo at the same time. You'd have your hands full with Angelo."

"Hmmmm…" Sydney could see where she was coming from. "I don't know that Angelo would be as difficult as you fear – he's not very verbally expressive, but I seriously doubt that he would deliberately cause problems. On the contrary, I think he'd be a bigger help with your brother because he'd be able to read the boy's emotions so much easier than we could, not to mention that playing together could be good for both of them." He squeezed the hand he was holding and then let it go. "'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,' Parker. Let's not borrow trouble that hasn't found us yet. We still have to get those boys and Angelo away from the Centre, remember."

"I know," she sighed and sank her chin in her hand.

He watched her for a long moment. "What is it that you HAVEN'T told me?" he asked softly.

Her grey eyes flicked up to meet his and then returned to their study of the outside of her water glass. "I don't think I can handle it," she stated finally in a soft voice, "and I don't like the idea that I can't handle it. I feel like I'm losing control of my life."

"What don't you think you can handle?"

Her forefinger circled the top of the glass absently. "Being an instant parent." She looked up at him again. "I mean, I haven't exactly had the best of role models to work from…"

"How much do you remember of your mother?" Sydney responded after a moment's thought.

"That's…"

"That's exactly what you do, provided you keep the memories of how your mother treated you and acted in relationship to you in the front of your mind when you interact with your little brother," he insisted. "We learn how to parent by example – abusive parenting results, the majority of the time, in another generation of abusive parenting. Your mother was most loving to you…"

"But Daddy…"

"He wasn't the most important figure in your life when you were small, Parker – your mother WAS. Work from your memories of her. BECOME her. I know you can."

"But to become an instant parent…"

"Tell me about it," he replied with a slightly crooked smile, his tone causing her to look up at him again sharply. He shrugged under her gaze. "For as long as I have thought of you and Jarod as if you were my own, I don't think I could have prepared for such a thing actually becoming anything close to reality. It was a very… complicated… moment."

"If you don't want…" Miss Parker pulled back and gazed at him, hurt.

"No, no!" Sydney reached out to her again and hung on. "I want, Parker, I want very much — don't you ever think I don't! I've wanted for a very long time, and I wouldn't trade the experience of having it happen for real for anything in the world. What I'm trying to tell you, however, is that it wasn't anything I could have prepared for — and while I did lose control of my life for an instant, I got that control back in the very next instant. I had no idea what it would mean to me or feel like to not only consider you like a daughter but to have you actually return the sentiment. It was one of the most frightening… and satisfying… things I've ever had happen to me."

"I do love you, Sydney," she whispered in a hesitant voice, unused to expressing that kind of emotion to him and yet compelled by his narrative to try.

"I… I know you do," he tightened his hold on her hand as he realized how hard it was for her to say such a thing — easily as hard for her as it was for him. Even now, the "I love you too" that should have been the natural response had stuck in his throat, held there by his habitual reluctance to make himself too vulnerable to her, despite everything. But still, she needed something more from him… "I'm sure that just as I'll be able to handle whatever comes my way as the result of having you as an instant daughter, you'll be able to handle whatever comes your way with your accepting your role as Instant Mommy to your little brother. I know you already love him, so intent will never be an issue."

"I'm still afraid I'll screw up."

He shook his head. "Not going to happen, Parker. I have faith in you."

Wide and vulnerable grey eyes flew up to gaze urgently at his face. "Really?"

"Really." He smiled at her as he patted her hand. How cruel her upbringing had been, to make her feel so unworthy that the smallest phrase of approval or confidence could buoy her so easily! "I always have had faith in you — well, at least, most of the time…"

She smiled back hesitantly, and clung tightly to the hand that had hers pinned to the table. "Thanks. I guess… I guess I just needed to hear it said."

"Anytime, Parker, anytime." He patted her hand again and then carefully withdrew his hand from her keeping. "Drink up now — we both could use a little more sleep, and you could use some rest without the nightmare." He followed his own advice, draining the last of the water from his glass and then rising and waiting for her to finish hers. He took her glass from her and carried it with his back to the sink, and then turned to find her waiting for him next to the doorway. "Feel any better?"

"I think so." Miss Parker slipped her left hand into the crook of his elbow while she reached with her right for the light switch and then circled his arm tightly with both hands.

Sydney could feel the near desperation in her grasp as he walked with her to the front of the house. "I'm not going anywhere, Parker," he reassured her as he freed himself from her hold so that she could lead the way up the narrow stairs. "I promise."

The shiver of deja vu nearly made her stumble. "Don't… ever promise that, Syd," she said sharply, pausing and half-turning toward him. "Just… don't."

His large hand landed warmly at her shoulder. "It will be all right. Trust me."

She reluctantly resumed her upward journey and then paused in front of her closed bedroom door. "It's hard to learn to trust, when it comes to that," she admitted in a whisper so as not to disturb Jarod's rest. "The last person who told me… who promised me… that nothing would happen and that he wouldn't be leaving me was dead very soon afterwards."

Even through the whisper, the grief in her voice was palpable. Sydney could tell that this was evidence of her tenuous trust in him now, for she hadn't given the slightest clue about how much Tommy's death hurt her for years — and evidently, it still did. "I know it's hard to learn not to live life fearing repeats of the past. It's hard to learn to trust again," Sydney whispered in return and kissed her cheek. "But it's a lesson we both have to learn, n'est pas?"

"I suppose…"

"Sleep well, Parker." He bent slightly so she could return the kiss to the cheek and then watched her retire behind her closed door before he continued on down the hallway.

oOoOo

"But I know how to swim…" Jarod complained as Sydney held out the life jacket.

"That's not the point. It's called water safety, and you should have learned it a long time ago — when you did that stint with the Coast Guard." Sydney didn't budge. "Or didn't you pay attention to the regulations you were Pretending to enforce?"

"Don't you know how to swim?" Jarod asked, eyeing the jacket that Sydney had already donned over his flannel shirt and knit vest.

"Of course I do." Sydney sighed. "Jarod, we're going out on the water fully clothed, where if we fall in, the clothing will drag us down or tire us out. The life jacket keeps us afloat even when we're too tired to tread water. Now stop arguing and put it on." Had Jarod always been this stubborn about things — or was his stubbornness an unexpected side effect of being free and out from underneath anybody's authority? It was an interesting line of thought that hadn't occurred until now, when he was back in Jarod's company on a continuing basis…

Jarod reluctantly took the bright orange and overstuffed collar from his mentor and draped it around his neck, then sighed as Sydney stepped forward to fasten the buckles for him when he once more balked. "It's uncomfortable," he complained softly, "and inhibits mobility."

Warm chestnut eyes that held a touch of exasperation touched his gaze as the last buckle snapped into place. "You're the one who wanted to go fishing — well, this is a part of it. And mobility is the least of your needs while fishing. The key to fishing is patience."

"The key to a lot of things is patience," Jarod retorted under his breath. He looked into the small boat that was tied securely to the dock. "Do we have everything we need?"

Sydney came to stand next to him. "We have poles, lures, bobbers, basket, oars and an outboard motor. And Parker packed a lunch and some canned drinks in that cooler for us while we're out there, so that should do it." He fished in the pocket of his trousers and hauled out a tube of something. "Better put this on your face and hands — you don't need to come back from this little trip looking more like a lobster than a fisherman. I found it in the medicine cabinet this morning while I was shaving."

"After you…" Jarod held the tube out to him first.

Sydney shook his head. "Already have mine on — put it on before we left the house." He waited and watched as Jarod carefully oiled himself with the sun screen lotion and then pocketed the tube when it was returned to him. "Now we're ready."

The two men carefully climbed into the small boat. Jarod tugged hard and untied the rope that held it to the dock while Sydney took a place at the back near the motor. A couple of good, hard yanks had the motor purring and the boat nosing it's way carefully away from shore. "How far out are we going?" Jarod asked, enjoying the sensation of the wind on his face. It reminded him of freedom, and was a vivid sensual contrast to the sensations he'd been allowed while an inmate of the Centre. In fact, the entire experience of being in a small boat, putting across the water with the wind in his face with an experienced and paternal figure at the helm steering the boat was one filled with nuances that would take him a very long time to dissect later on.

"Not that far," Sydney replied after a short pause to consider just how far out would be both safe and productive fishing-wise. "I'm not all that familiar with how to read a big body of water like this for active fishing spots — and this is a damned big lake. We'll have to take our chances close to shore, I think."

"This is quite a bit bigger than White Cloud," Jarod agreed, "that's for sure." He'd been on the ocean in that Pretend in the Coast Guard years ago — Superior gave some of the same feelings, although there was no saltwater tang to the air. "You fished at the cabin, didn't you?"

"Yes, but when I'd fish at White Cloud, I'd fish from the pier," Sydney told him, raising his voice a little to be heard over the growl of the motor. "But then, that would be more like fly-fishing than what we'll be doing today…"

Jarod turned around. "What's the difference? Isn't fishing fishing?"

Sydney shook his head. "Fly fishing takes a bit more practice to learn to cast properly. Today we'll just be working on efficiency of motion to get the hooks and lures as far from the boat as possible. Fly fishing uses the slow reeling in of the hooks and flies to mimic the action of insects in the water that would be food for the fish. The lures in the box here are meant to look real while the line is hanging still in the water."

His protégé looked impressed. "Here and I thought it was just a question of putting a hook in the water…"

Sydney shook his head in belief. "It's a whole lot more complicated than that." He continued to aim the little boat toward the endless horizon, and then abruptly cut the motor. "This should do it." He gave a glance back to shore, and the house that was considerably smaller.

Jarod turned around carefully on his seat, dug in his sweatshirt pocket and pulled out a fly and handed it to the back of the boat. "What would this be used for, then?"

The older man examined the expert tying and design of the fly. "Somebody put a lot of time and effort into this one," he commented, impressed. "It's a handmade fly-fishing lure, and a fine one." He handed it back carefully. "Where did you get it?"

"A friend gave it to me as a memento," Jarod replied vaguely as he tucked it carefully back into his pocket, wondering briefly how that father and son team were doing in the time that had passed since he'd left them.

"We'd have to find a good fly-fishing stream for me to show you how to use that one," Sydney informed him. "For today, however, it will be just basic lake fishing."

Sydney opened the tackle box that was on the floor of the boat between them and pointed out the various paraphernalia and explained the uses of each, then took up a rod and began rigging the line and instructing Jarod on how to take care of his own. Jarod watched carefully and mimicked the actions of his former mentor, and still needed to hand over his line once for adjustment and correction combined with praise for his other work.

It was the first time he had been in the position of student of Sydney's for a very long time. So much of their time together in those last years at the Centre had been in the position of mentor and trained performer — Sydney presenting the SIM situation and keeping him focused as he went through the mental and emotional hoops and ladders required to draw forth the desired information. Experiencing Sydney as teacher again — presenting new information and guiding the learning steps — brought back feelings and memories of feelings that Jarod had thought long dead. Sydney was patient, explaining every step of the process and watching him take his attempts with understanding. THIS was the Sydney that he had wanted so desperately to have as his family.

"Who taught you to fish?" he asked as Sydney made the final adjustments to his own line.

"My father," the older man answered after a long moment. "Our house wasn't far from the Rhone River. He took Jacob and me out several times before the war."

This was a side of Sydney Jarod rarely saw, the private man with a life history and a family… "Tell me about him… your father."

Chestnut eyes came up and gazed into his in surprise. "Why?"

"Because you never have," Jarod answered with a shrug, "and because the experience obviously meant a great deal to you."

Sydney looked back down and rechecked the last of his knots as he debated whether or not to answer the question. He hadn't thought about that time in years… "My father was a schoolteacher and poet," he finally said in a quiet voice. "He was a big man, much taller than my mother, with a deep voice and big, barreled chest. When he laughed, the whole house vibrated." A small, private smile stole over his face. "And yet, when Maman spoke, he did exactly what she told him."

Jarod's hands had fallen idle into his lap, listening to the quiet memories. "And he took you fishing?"

Sydney glanced up and nodded, and then busied himself setting the rod aside and closing down the tackle box. "As much as he could. It wasn't exactly safe to eat the fish from the river — but he told us that it was a life skill that every man should have. He said, 'if you give a man a fish, you feed him for a day; but teach a man to fish,…'"

"'…and you feed him for a lifetime.' I've heard that," Jarod responded. "So, you went… fly-fishing?"

"No," Sydney chuckled. "That's a uniquely American wrinkle on the sport. No, he took us out in a small boat, much like this one — only we didn't have a motor, he had to row us out and then drop an anchor so we wouldn't get swept too far downstream — with a tackle box not so very different than this one. And we sat there and fished."

He handed Jarod his rod. "Speaking of which, time to get your line in the water." He pointed out the switch that allowed for free play of the line and explained how and when to use the switch. Jarod went to wave his rod over his head, only to have Sydney's hand catch him before he could make the big move. "You do that, you run the risk of catching one of us with your hook and doing some real harm. Use the water off the end of the boat and make it a sideways cast — like this." He swung his rod back over the motor end of the boat, then made a sideways motion that had the sinkers and hooks flying in a neat line several yards from the boat to plunk into the water. "Now you try."

Jarod narrowed his eyes and made a similar movement, but didn't hit the switch properly so his line plunked into the water only a few feet from the boat. "This isn't as easy as it looks," he commented as he carefully reeled the line in.

"Like so much else in life, it takes practice," Sydney agreed with a soft chuckle. "Try it again, only this time, remember to hit the switch." Jarod nodded and tried it again, and this time his line played out a fair distance before plunking into the water. "Verrrry good, Jarod," Sydney nodded approvingly. "You're getting the hang of it now."

"If you didn't eat the fish you caught, what would you do with them?" Jarod was curious.

"We'd throw them back," Sydney shrugged. "Papa taught us how to get the hooks out of the fish's mouths with as little damage as possible — and then we'd let them go."

"What would you have for supper then?" The chocolate eyes were wide.

"Whatever my mother had planned for that evening's meal otherwise," his mentor chuckled. "We'd joke around the supper table sometimes about how strange the fish tasted that evening…" His face had grown soft with the memories of days long gone.

"I can imagine," Jarod remarked softly.

Sydney's face flickered with the tiniest flash of guilt as the Belgian realized that imagining that kind of family gathering was the closest Jarod had been able to come to such an experience to date. "You'll get your chance to be with your family someday," he reassured his protégé gently.

"I didn't mean it that way," Jarod replied immediately, contrite. "But tell me, why is fishing a father and son activity? Wouldn't it do to teach a girl…"

"Ah — but it is a father's place to teach his son to provide for the family," Sydney explained, grateful for the skillful detour in topic. "A daughter's place is at her mother's side, learning to keep the house and prepare the food the father provides."

"I can just imagine Miss Parker glued to her mother's side learning how to cook and clean," Jarod quipped. "She thinks that if it gets out that she can cook, her reputation is ruined."

"She was raised by her father though," Sydney reminded him, "and raised to take over the reins of the Centre when the time came. Cooking and cleaning were the province of domestics."

"So if she'd been a boy, then Mr. Parker would have taken her out fishing?"

Sydney shook his head at the verbal image that arose. "I seriously doubt it. Mr. Parker's life was the Centre — not his family." He glanced at his former student. "Do you really imagine that he took Lyle fishing after that relationship was discovered?"

Jarod's eyes widened, and then he shook his head in answer. "No… That just doesn't seem like something either one of them would do."

Sydney nodded agreement and stared out over the sparkling water for a long moment. It was quiet out here on the lake — the lack of pressure from anybody actually wanting something from him was a relief. The Centre seemed like it was an entire world removed from him, which in itself was a great release.

"So what do fathers and sons DO while sitting here and waiting for the fish to bite?" Jarod wanted to know.

"Sit, talk, there are no interruptions from telephones, wives, babies, co-workers… A man can take the time to teach a son how to BE a man out in a small boat… or can come to accept a son AS a man in a man's world."

"How so?" Jarod's head had tipped as he grew intrigued by the idea.

Sydney gazed at him evenly. "By letting some of the things that normally inhibit fall away," he said thoughtfully. "By answering questions or discussing situations within the family unit that are on-going, a man teaches by example. Fishing teaches patience and perseverance — concepts that are often best learned by experience."

Jarod stared out over the water, his eyes catching on the blotch of white at the shoreline that he knew was the house he was sharing with Parker and Sydney. Parker had been right — he felt closer to Sydney now, without the agonized and desperate soul-searching, than he had ever felt before. And yet, there was something missing, a connection. Sydney had said in his letter to Parker that he'd always loved him as a son. He'd eventually admitted as much aloud. But what did that mean to HIM? What did it mean to BE a son?

"Sydney?"

"Hmm?"

"I need to know…" No, that wasn't the right way to broach the subject. Jarod kicked himself for the self-centered way he'd approached the problem before him.

"What is that?" Sydney asked mildly. Jarod had grown quiet, so he knew something was brewing. When he didn't get an answer, he looked over at his former protégé. "What do you need to know?" he asked again.

"You said," Jarod decided to try again, "that while fishing, a man can teach his son to be a man. But how does a person learn how to be a son?"

Sydney's shoulders sagged. "I honestly don't know," he answered sadly, "anymore than I know how a man learns to be a father. I think it's something that happens over time — as one moves from infancy to childhood and then beyond."

"So it's more than just… emotional attachment or dependence?"

"Family ties are the most complex social structures we have as human beings, Jarod," Sydney replied, retreating into his psychiatric and mentor's persona out of self-defense. "A child's first ties to a parent are ones of trust — trust that the parent will provide food and shelter being first, with everything else springing from there. Eventually it is a very complex mixture of love, respect, trust, companionship, shared experience…" Sydney's voice died away.

"Is that why you wouldn't let me be a son, then? Because you knew that I couldn't be allowed to trust…"

"Jarod…"

"I just wanted someone that I could call my own — someone to belong to…"

There was no argument with the emotions of the child that Jarod had once been. This was the inevitable consequence of maintaining that distance that had enabled Jarod to eventually find his freedom. "I know," Sydney muttered softly.

"And so now, after I'm already grown, is it that I can't grow those connections? Is it something wrong with me now?"

"Jarod," Sydney said again, then propped his rod between his knees against a rib on the floor of the boat so he could have his hands free to put on a slumped shoulder turned away from him. "It isn't you — it was never you. When the time comes, and you find your father, you'll be able to slowly put those connections into play."

"But I can never make them with you, is that it?" The chocolate eyes came around accusingly.

Sydney was stunned. "After all this time, after everything I did, I can't imagine why you'd want to. You HAVE a father — your real father — and when the time comes, you have the start of that relationship with the man with whom you should have had that relationship all along."

That was when the truth of the situation finally dawned on Jarod — Sydney wasn't saying that the connections couldn't be made, he was denying himself the opportunity of having them made with HIM in order to clear the way for Jarod to connect with his real father. Once more, he was setting his own desires aside to make it possible for Jarod to walk away without needing to look back.

"But I need – I want – that relationship with you too," Jarod replied with quiet vehemence. "I told you, all of my childhood memories include you – you taught me all the important things. I'll have whatever kind of father-son relationship I can cobble together with my real dad eventually – if the Centre is no longer an issue for our being together, that is – but every time I think this through, YOU are the one I think of automatically when I think of an authority figure. You're my dad in here," he touched himself in the chest, "and that's not going to change. Is there no way that I can have that kind of relationship with you now?"

"I always thought that staying out of the way of your relationship with your real father would be the only way for you to connect with him," Sydney replied slowly.

"I think that the only way I'll know how to go about constructing something other than a relationship built solely on genetics with him is by learning how to be a son to the only man I've ever looked up to as a role model." Jarod gazed imploringly at his former mentor. "Please help me."

"But everything I did – everything I allowed to happen to you…"

"Doesn't change the way I feel."

Sydney gazed at him for a long moment, and then looked away. "What about trust, Jarod?"

"What about it?"

"I haven't exactly done anything to earn yours. I didn't protect you at the Centre – I didn't provide for you, or take obvious interest in your welfare…"

"Is it that you don't want me as a son, then?" Jarod felt deeply wounded by his mentor's continuing to hold him at arm's length.

Sydney looked up at him sharply. "No! It isn't that at all!"

"Then what?"

"I told you – I don't deserve to have you as a son!" Sydney burst out, unable to keep silent about it anymore. "Don't you understand? I am so proud of you – of what you have accomplished and done since you escaped – and I know I had no part of it."

"But Sydney," Jarod propped his rod in a similar fashion and this time reached out to his old mentor, "you DID have a part in it – a rather big part in it. If it hadn't been for you, I'd never have thought about helping the little guy…"

"I didn't teach you that…"

"Yes, you did! You did it by NOT teaching me that I was better than everyone else, or that I deserved to be waited on hand and foot. My sense of right and wrong came straight from you!"

Once more, Sydney found that he had no counter to his protégé's argument. "I always thought," he said instead, "that it came from inside you."

"Maybe it did," Jarod shrugged, "but you nourished it. All of my ideas of what it meant to be a man I learned from you – and not even during fishing trips." He looked at his mentor with muted pain. "Is it so much to ask to be allowed to love you – and maybe get a little love in return? Why can you love Parker, and not…"

"That's not the way it is," Sydney stated slowly, understanding a little bit more with that broken, revealing question. "The way I feel about Parker has nothing to do with…"

"You love her because it's safe to love her — it doesn't hurt to love her." Jarod watched Sydney's face closely. "Why can't you love me, even just a little?"

"But I already do – more than you can ever know." The admission was almost a whisper. "But on the day that you find your real father and begin to make those connections with him, your connection with me must necessarily fade away. I don't…" He gazed with an almost frantic plea for understanding at Jarod's face. "I'm afraid that if I let myself get used to you being as close to me as a son, the day that you connect with your father and walk away will be the day I begin to die a little inside and keep on dying until there's nothing left. And I don't want you avoiding the chance to be a son to your father simply to save me grief."

Jarod stared. Was the situation really that simple – that Sydney was afraid of being hurt and protecting himself from future loss? "Sydney, even if I connect with my real father, I will never be able to walk away from the fact that it was YOU who raised me, and not him. Whatever relationship I have with him eventually will be in addition to the relationship I have with you – NOT instead of." He thought for a bit. "Maybe there's a question of trust in this too. Can you trust me to not walk away and shut you out?"

"I don't know that I dare," Sydney admitted with hesitant honesty. "And I know Parker shares the same doubts. She's terrified that once everything you've set up in regards to the Centre is concluded, that you'll just vanish again like you always do."

That stung. "I wouldn't do that…"

"She doesn't know that, and neither do I. In fact, I thought I've been training you to do exactly that – walk away from the Centre and all involved the moment you get the chance. That includes Parker and me."

"Been there, done that, Sydney," Jarod replied. "And when it comes to you two, I don't think I can do it anymore."

"So you say now. But what will happen when, if your plan to bring the Centre down is successful, your father and mother and sister come to collect you? You deserve the chance to put together a life with them too – and without having to worry about Parker and me." He shook his head and took up his fishing pole again. "Our losing you eventually to your real family is the price we'll have to pay for your having been stolen from them in the first place."

The idea that Parker and Sydney were preparing themselves to lose him gave Jarod an intense feeling of emptiness. He couldn't blame them for protecting themselves against that – only offer them a promise for the future. "My family will just have to understand that I don't come without attachments," Jarod argued gently.

"You don't want…"

"Yes, I do." Jarod's voice was very firm, very certain. "Sydney, when you said those things to Parker in your letter, you did it because you thought you'd never be able to see it happen in reality. What you said… was something I'd been waiting almost my whole life to hear. There's no way I could just walk away you — from either of you — now. Not without doing myself an injury that would never heal in the process. You have to trust me."

"Do you understand what you're asking me – the both of us – to risk?" Sydney's gaze was piercing.

"I think I do," Jarod replied. "I don't want this connection to be one-sided, Sydney. All I'm asking is for permission to love you the way I've always wanted, and maybe have it returned to me a little bit for once."

Sydney began to reel his line in. "Jarod, there is no way that I can prevent you from feeling anything, anymore than the Centre and my worries about what would happen could have prevented me from secretly becoming v… from loving you back when."

"What about now?"

"My feelings towards you haven't changed over the years, Jarod." The chestnut eyes were steady.

"But I don't want you to feel guilty anymore when you think of me either – I want you just to love me a little."

"I told you, I already do – and more than just a little. The guilt is just a natural part of that, because of what we've been through together."

Jarod was silent for a long moment, studying the way the sunlight glinted on the waves in the distance. "If I can accept that what happened was necessary to make me the person I am today, can't you accept that too?" Jarod asked gently. "Ultimately, it didn't end up THAT badly — I'm alive, I'm here…"

It was such a simple statement, and yet deeper than Sydney had expected. Jarod was right – when viewed in terms of present-day circumstances, everything that had gone before hadn't ended that badly. It was quite an amazing revelation, one that took a while to fully appreciate and respond to. "Jarod, I think you're on your way to being a very wise man."

"I don't know about that," the Pretender hedged. "It depends upon whether I have just spent the last half hour out here talking and fishing with my dad – or with an old friend."

Sydney looked across the sparkling water at the far horizon. It all came down to a question of trust. To make the arguments he had, Jarod had needed to trust that Sydney wouldn't betray him again later on down the line by pushing him away again. Jarod had laid his heart on the line and bartered with it. Could he trust that Jarod wouldn't betray him either? Was he willing to put his heart on the line too? The choice he made now would direct his life, and his relationship with Jarod, from now on. And in that case, there really wasn't a choice — because that decision had been made decades ago and kept carefully hidden away where it couldn't be used against either of them.

"C'mon, my boy, pull in your line. I don't think the fish are biting here."

Jarod's lips twitched, and then he had a broad smile on his face as he followed suit and soon had his lines safely stowed in the boat. "Are we heading in to shore already, or just going to try somewhere else?"

"This is your fishing trip, Jarod. What do you want to do?"

The chocolate eyes were warm. "I think I'm enjoying learning how to fish and I really don't want it to end yet. Let's try somewhere else and see what we can catch."

Sydney turned to give the rope on the outboard motor its swift yanks with a sudden warm feeling in his heart and mind. This was what he'd never been allowed with Nicholas, what he'd denied himself when it came to Jarod until now: the closeness of knowing that the sentiment he felt was returned in full measure. Even now he could feel the need to punish himself for what he'd been a part of during Jarod's youth fading a little; not completely, but finally it had ebbed a little. He pointed to a nonspecific place just a little further from shore. "All right — how about over there?"

"You're the expert," Jarod replied with a light heart and then turned so that the wind once more could wash across his face as Sydney skillfully piloted the boat to the new fishing spot.


	8. Safety Valves

Chapter 8 – Safety valves

Miss Parker leaned against the post near the back porch steps and sipped at her coffee, her eye on the little boat bobbing serenely out on the lake. They had moved about an hour earlier, causing her a little anxiety until she was able to locate them in their new spot. They had been out on the lake for over two hours now; she hoped that their talks had been peaceful and settling ones. They desperately needed to come to some kind of resolution.

In the kitchen, on the table, the laptop made a chirping noise. Miss Parker straightened and walked back through the screen door to see what was going on. In the email client, there was a flag stating "New mail" covering the center of the screen. She glanced out the door at the lake beyond, greatly tempted to open the email and see what it was about but resisted. Jarod certainly wasn't only in touch with people at the Centre, and he deserved his privacy when it came to his correspondence.

She would just have to find something else to do with herself until the men returned from their bonding experiment on the lake to find out what was going on.

She had already washed the dishes from the early morning repast, and the house was fairly clean and dusted already. Her gun was already cleaned and oiled, and her cleaning kit was still in Blue Cove so she couldn't give a similar treatment to Sydney's. She drew frustrated fingers through her hair. This was ridiculous! She'd never needed others around her to find something to do with herself before in her life.

In a burst of energy, she trudged upstairs and into her bedroom, sat down Indian-style on the taut bedspread and dumped the contents of her purse out. She quickly shoved her makeup back into the bottom of the small bag, but lingered over her wallet. She opened it and pulled out the wad of bills that was what remained of her travel fund from Delaware. Counting it quickly, she tucked the eleven hundred dollars back in. It wasn't much; they would have to rely on Jarod's being able to raid Centre coffers soon if they were going to be able to take care of Angelo and her little brother.

She rose and went to her bedroom window and looked out over the lake to where the small boat still bobbed up and down in the choppy water, feeling a little left out. She leaned against the wall, recognizing how foolish it was to resent Jarod's finally having some quality time alone with Sydney, and yet unable to help herself. She chewed on her lower lip, arguing with herself over whether or not her feelings of abandonment were reasonable. Neither Sydney nor Jarod had abandoned her; they had only gone out on the lake fishing, and to hopefully connect the way they needed to. That didn't diminish her importance to either of them.

Did it?

She couldn't help it: the demon of jealousy was very familiar with her history and knew exactly which buttons to push and which thoughts to toss out. Why was it that Sydney had Jarod, Jarod had his little people, Broots had Debbie, Lyle had his Asian beauties, Raines had his demonic agendas, Daddy had the Centre – or, for a while, Brigitte – but SHE was condemned always to be odd man out? The one time she'd felt she had a chance for happiness, those few short weeks with Thomas, had ended when he'd been murdered practically under her nose. It had been a message: as a Parker, and Daddy Parker's 'heir', her priorities were to be centered on the Centre and nowhere else.

It wasn't fair!

She caught herself just as a tear of resentment and self-pity threatened, and she dashed it away brusquely. No, it wasn't like that anymore. Sydney loved her, he said so… He'd called her the 'daughter he'd always wanted.' He'd told her that she was the 'only thing left in his life worth living for.'

But Sydney was out on the lake with… Jarod.

She'd never had to share anybody's affections before, certainly not a parental figure. She'd not had Lyle in her life growing up, so her mother's affections — and then later her father's questionable attentions — had always been all hers. Her affection in return had always been a narrowly focused beam of emotional energy aimed at a single person: first her mother, then, futilely, her father, and briefly, Thomas. But now they were all gone, those loved ones on whom she'd focused her affections over the year, all except Sydney. She'd finally stopped hiding from the fact that she'd always looked up to him as a father-figure and always been secretly grateful for his gentle chiding when her attempts to get her Daddy's attention tended to the extremes of behavior or fashion. At least SOMEONE had noticed… And now that her feelings were out in the open, she needed…

Frustrated, she moved back and bounced on the bed in a pique. She'd never needed anybody else in her life before. She was strong, she was a Parker, damn it…

She sagged, grateful nobody was around to see. No, that wasn't true. She'd been strong because it had been expected of her, not because she didn't need anybody else in her life. She'd been strong because everyone around her was too busy being there for somebody else and not her. Strength had become a crutch to keep her from being vulnerable at having to forever stand all alone. Nobody could ever know how much she needed; for like with knowing the 'Ice Queen' could cook, her being human and needing another human in her life now and then would ruin her reputation.

And yet, that fierce determination to be independent and self-sufficient hadn't given her happiness. It had left her with a huge hole in her life that most others filled with family and friends. Her family — those she had left, that is — she had very little time for. Her friends… She had terrorized Broots. She just was never around Debbie much at all. And Sydney… She'd shied away from him because she knew he could see right through her. He would have wanted to help, and that would have violated her image of self-sufficiency, which wasn't to be allowed.

And then there was Jarod: perpetually irritating, smugly superior, and always dancing just beyond reach with offers of friendship and information interspersed with rude calls in the middle of the night and painful digs about her life. Was he a friend? Did he qualify? He used to, when they both were young… What had happened to change the way she felt about him — or had it? Was that change in attitude her idea or one planted by Daddy in order to get her to participate in the chase? After all, Daddy had certainly lied to her and never intended that she be free from Centre affiliation if she brought Jarod back. Over the years, she'd at least learned to be skeptical about offers that seemed too good to be true.

With a burst of honesty, she realized that she'd been jealous of Jarod almost from the first moment that she'd met him, and especially after her Mother had left her life. Jarod had had Sydney. Jarod hadn't been forced to go to a school in a country where she barely spoke the language. Jarod had stayed behind in the Centre to spend his off time with Angelo in the ductwork of the Centre. And then, when her life had almost started to resemble something interesting with a position in Corporate and living nicely removed from Daddy and all he represented, Jarod had escaped. The comfortable bubble, which was wrapped up in her position as the head of Corporate Security, had suddenly popped, and she'd been dragged right back down into the Centre.

Yes, Jarod had escaped — and she'd been trapped. No, she chided herself, she'd always been trapped; it was just that once he was out on his own, she'd been forced to recognize just how trapped she was, no matter how independent she'd been allowed to believe she'd been. He went wherever he wanted whenever he wanted, made friends who remained loyal to him even years later. And she… She'd been stuck in the Centre, always under surveillance, always having to report her every action to someone else. The illusion of her freedom had been a hard pill to swallow.

And now…

Miss Parker forced herself to take a good, hard look at her current situation. Now she was on the run, and yet in a strange way, more free than she'd ever been before. She could go where she wanted whenever she wanted. She was with friends — very good friends — who had been loyal to her ever since childhood despite everything. The Centre was an edifice half a continent away that had no control over her. She wasn't under continual surveillance nor did she have to report her every move to anyone. She WAS free.

Except from them: Jarod and Sydney…

She rose once more and looked out the window and saw that the boat was making its way to shore at last. She dashed the remaining tears of self-indulgence from her eyes and ran a finger under her nose to help stop the sniffling. It wouldn't do for them to come back in and know that she'd been upset. Syd would want to know why, and Jarod…

She walked down the hallway to the bathroom and quickly dashed some cold water in her face. She stared herself in the eye in the mirror as she toweled herself dry. She could learn to share. She'd have to, at least until Jarod took it into his head to pull another vanishing act.

And by then, she'd have her hands full and probably be the one having to be shared rather than the one needing to learn how to do the sharing.

She trotted down the stairs and went back into the kitchen to claim her now cold coffee and then walked out on the back porch and propped herself against the railing and support beam to await the return of the men. The little boat nosed itself carefully up to the pier, and then Jarod was stepping out and tying it up. The sound of their voices wafting at her on the back of the breeze was relaxed, casual.

Jarod turned and collected the ice chest that she'd sent off with them and then offered a hand to Sydney to steady the older man as he climbed from the boat onto the little dock. Sydney clapped Jarod on the back companionably as the two walked side by side to shore and then over the narrow stretch of low sand dunes toward the house. "I don't see any supper," she called out to them with a smile, glad to have company again. She didn't like being alone with her thoughts anymore.

"The fish weren't biting," Sydney replied.

"Despite the best efforts and intentions of the expert here, fishing still requires the cooperation of the fish," Jarod chimed in, clapping a hand onto his companion's shoulder.

"Naw. What gave you the clue, Boy-Genius?" she teased him and downed the last of her coffee.

"Anything come up while we were out?" Sydney asked, his eyes searching Miss Parker's face. There were signs of turmoil there that she'd not managed to quite erase yet, and he'd want to talk to her about that in a bit — when they were alone, preferably.

"Oh yeah." She straightened. "Jarod, it says there's a new email waiting for you."

The Pretender glanced at Sydney, then broke into a trot, sprinted up the stairs and past Miss Parker with a "Thanks," and let the screen door slam behind him.

"Parker," Sydney approached the porch slowly, only to halt when she set her coffee cup on the railing, came down the stairs to him, walked straight up to him, wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. "What's this?"

"I missed you," she stated honestly, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Goodness, Parker…" He closed his arms around her and held her for a long moment. "I wasn't gone for long, you know," he told her softly.

"I know," she nodded against him. "I also just discovered that I'm not the best of company for myself right now."

"Sydney! Parker! It's from Angelo," Jarod called out from the kitchen.

"We'll talk about this later," he informed her in a voice that let her know that he wouldn't be forgetting, then loosened his hold so that he could lead her up the steps and into the kitchen. "What does Angelo say?" he asked.

"That we'll need to move fairly soon," Jarod read out loud, "because they're intending to move the boy to Africa within the week. Raines doesn't trust that he could be safe in Delaware."

"Score one for Nosferatu," Miss Parker grumbled. "If we have our way, it won't be safe for him to keep the boy in Delaware."

"What about Parker's little brother?"

Jarod glanced up at Miss Parker apologetically. "They're going to move both boys at the same time."

"But… we aren't ready…" she gaped at him. "What are we going…"

"Angelo says that he can handle getting your brother out of harm's way when the time comes, and I believe him." Jarod gazed up at Miss Parker reassuringly. "He'll know when to move, and how to get him out of there."

"That's great for the little Parker boy, but what about little Ricky Santos?" Sydney objected.

"I made a phone call after you two were asleep last night when I couldn't get to sleep," Jarod admitted. "There's a special agent in Atlanta that I trust. I spoke to him and have things starting to gel there now too. I need to get visual confirmation of the Santos boy's location to him, and then he can get the warrants and call in a raid on the Centre proper. I was going to do that after I got back from our fishing trip anyway."

"How soon?" Sydney sounded both pleased and anxious. "How soon before they can raid the place?"

"Forty-eight hours tops," Jarod estimated quickly.

"Can Angelo be ready to move that quickly?" Miss Parker pressed in.

Jarod nodded. "Of all the variables in this situation, Angelo will be the one we'll have to worry about least. He'll know when it's time to move; all we'll have to do is coordinate where to meet up with him."

"Then we need to be heading back to Delaware almost immediately," Sydney exclaimed in surprise. "So much for changing our appearances before heading back."

"Miss Parker managed to do the most the quickest," Jarod commented with a measuring eye. "I could probably do much the same, and it wouldn't take long. You, however," he looked at Sydney, "would do best to stay out of sight as much as possible the closer we get to Blue Cove. And before I forget…" He rose from his chair and walked over to the end of the kitchen counter, where he had placed the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope. "Let's see how that medication is doing for you, now that you've been on it for a bit, and it's had a chance to build up a little."

Miss Parker waited while Jarod listened carefully, then announced, "One twenty-eight over ninety five. That's a helluva lot better than it was."

"I checked my traveling funds, Jarod," she spoke up calmly. "I have eleven hundred and change left. That will get us back to Delaware and a bit beyond, but that's about it."

"I can route some funding from one of the Centre slush accounts through about a half a dozen countries and ten banks and have several times that amount at our disposal long before we take off," Jarod mentally added it to his list of things to do.

"What about Broots?" Miss Parker asked suddenly.

"What about him?" Jarod looked up at her.

"We can't just leave him there…"

"It would be better if he didn't leave; he's not done anything wrong," Jarod shook his head. "He won't be in any way held responsible in the matter of Ricky Santos by the police when they raid the place. Nine chances out of ten, the only ones who'll end up in hot water simply by virtue of working there will be the sweepers."

"My God. Sam," Miss Parker breathed.

Jarod's eyes narrowed, and then he simply nodded. "Most likely."

"He hasn't done anything either."

"Much…" Jarod added ominously. "At least, not lately."

"That's because he's been my personal sweeper, answerable only to me, and then MAYBE to Raines if I'm not around. He hates it when I vanish. He's probably been beside himself these last few."

Jarod blinked in outright amazement. "What are you saying? Do you want to get him out too, with Angelo?" 

"No," she put her hands on her hips, prepared to face off over this, "but I'd like to at least warn him to get his butt outta Dodge before the posse arrives."

Sydney saw the familiar curtain of stubbornness begin to descend over his protégé's face and put a restraining hand on Jarod's shoulder, hoping to forestall a bitter argument. "Jarod, Sam has taken very good care of Miss Parker at the Centre over the years…"

"He's saved my butt several times," Miss Parker glowered down. "I owe him this much."

It rankled, but Jarod could see how important it was to her to protect her people from the chaos they were going to call down on the Centre. He let his mind shift into SIM mode and examine her reasons from her perspective, and then understood that the ties that would naturally develop in such a hostile environment would be incredibly strong. He couldn't fault her for trying to keep the scales balanced, even with people he'd just as soon dropped off the face of the earth entirely. "You just want to warn him — not bring him into our little group here, — the same way you were going to warn Broots, right?"

"I just don't want him in trouble with the law when the law makes trouble for the Centre," Miss Parker stated determinedly.

"OK… How do you intend to get in touch with him, then? Do you have his phone number, granting that it isn't being tapped in case you DO call…"

"You're the genius," she bit back. "Hack into the Centre Mainframe and see if there are any current wiretap orders on his lines; and get me his home phone number, while you're at it."

"And set off all kinds of alarms…" he threw out at her.

An eyebrow took off for the hairline like a rocket. "Broots could do it with one hand tied behind his back. Are you telling me that he's better than you at hacking?"

"Parker!" Sydney was shocked. That was an underhanded way to get anybody to cooperate, the kind of tactic he'd expect of her father or brother, and not her.

"What's the big deal?" she defended herself, turning to him. "All I want is to keep Sam safe from what we're going to call down on the Centre." She whirled on Jarod again. "What the hell's the matter with that?"

"He's a sweeper, that's what," Jarod growled. "Beating people up and forcing them to do things they don't want to is the definition of the job, Parker. Who's to say that he won't give away to Raines that we're up to something…"

"He wouldn't do that…" Miss Parker was outraged.

"How do you know?" Jarod demanded, half-turning in his chair.

"Stop it, both of you!" Sydney said quietly yet forcefully, finally having had enough. He shook his head at both sets of angry eyes that were turned on him in surprise. "Jarod, whether you like it or not, Sam is important to Miss Parker; he's a part of her life at the Centre that wasn't entirely bad. She feels she needs to warn him away so he doesn't get hauled in for something he didn't do, so you can at least make it possible for him to get his warning — and you know how to do it in a manner that will keep US as safe as possible in the meanwhile." Jarod sighed deeply, but finally nodded in concession.

"And Parker, you have to recognize that Jarod has a legitimate reason to be extremely distrustful of sweepers in general, Sam in particular. Unlike you, he lived the majority of his life on the wrong end of their exercising their duties. His reluctance comes not from lack of ability to hack into the Centre Mainframe, but rather from a desire to protect us and himself from someone he's never been given a good reason to trust." Under his stern gaze, Miss Parker relaxed her stance and nodded as well.

"Shame on you both! You two don't have the time to stand here and argue, and I sure as Hell don't have either the time or the patience to stand here and listen to you squabble like children." He glared back and forth at both of them and could see them both backing down quickly from their argument. "If Sam is to be warned, he needs to be warned soon. If we're going to head back to Delaware, we need to start packing. So stow the temper tantrums and start working WITH each other again rather than against each other."

Sydney walked away from both of them toward the kitchen door. "Where are you going?" a much chastened-sounding Miss Parker chirped at him.

"Upstairs to lie down," he responded in a disgusted tone without turning around. "I'm tired and I need to conserve my energy if I'm going to be of any help at all. I'll be back down after a while." He continued on out the kitchen door, leaving Jarod and Miss Parker staring at each other in consternation.

"Whoa!" Jarod shook his head.

"I think we just both got our asses chewed," she replied with growing surprise. "In case we were wondering if Syd had it in him to start acting the part of a father-figure…"

"I haven't seen him in that kind of mood for a long time."

Miss Parker nodded. "I've only seen him that disgusted once before, and he was literally packing up his office and getting ready to quit." She looked down at the Pretender. "I thought you guys were going to have a good time out there on the lake."

"We did!" he protested. "And in the end, we connected."

"Then he must have been pretty P.O.'ed with our bickering," she replied. "You know, we promised ourselves we weren't going to do that…"

"Yeah, I know…" Jarod sighed penitently. "OK, I'll hack into the Mainframe again and make sure there's no wiretaps or traces being run on Sam's home phone line and get you the number, on the condition that when you call him you don't give him any information about where we are or what we intend to do. Deal?"

Miss Parker nodded again. "I can live with that." She turned and looked out the kitchen door where Sydney had disappeared. "Do you suppose we should go upstairs and apologize?"

Jarod shook his head. "Let him sleep. I have to admit that I got a little sleepy out there too, sitting out there in a little boat that was rocking like a cradle. And he's still recovering from everything that brought us here in the first place. Face it, we can get a lot accomplished while he takes a nap, and maybe having things starting to line up will make his mood better when he does come back down." He beckoned her with a quick jerk of the head. "C'mon. Let's see whether I've got what it takes to be Broots' equal at the keyboard in your eyes. What's Sam's last name again?"

oOoOo

Jarod glanced over his shoulder and watched as Miss Parker busied herself with making yet another casserole for supper. He glanced at the computer screen and noted that the recording program that was capturing the live video of little Ricky Santos directly from the DSA servers complete with time-date stamp was running properly and still had ten minutes of recording time left.

On a slip of paper on the table sat Sam's home phone number, waiting for a considerably later hour when the sweeper would be most likely to be home alone. Feeling he had a little leeway to take care of things that would be better dealt with now, Jarod rose and came up behind her. He still felt the need to finish the argument in a way that was far more reasonable and would be far more acceptable to the man still resting upstairs. "I'm sorry, Parker. I shouldn't have snapped at you…"

"I'm sorry too," she replied without turning. "I promised I wouldn't bicker or argue, and the minute we had something we disagreed about…"

"I'm as much to blame as you are," Jarod insisted. "Sydney was right: Sam IS a part of your life at the Centre, and if what you say is true, then he's important to you."

"Yes, well…" she reached out for the stack of peeled and tipped carrots to begin chopping them into coins, "I don't like to think about what you went through with sweepers, especially since you escaped the first time. They haven't exactly been kind and gentle. I should have remembered that." She glanced at him. "We both deserved the chewing out we got."

"I know." Jarod propped his backside against the counter next to her so he could at least see her face in profile. "We're used to seeing the world from two completely different perspectives. I don't think either of us have exactly had a whole lot of practice trying to see things from the other's point of view."

Miss Parker's grey gaze came up and touched his briefly before returning to what she was doing. "Your point being…?"

"Maybe that I've been too hard on you all this time," he said finally. "I haven't exactly been giving you credit for being as much of a victim as I was, or for having your perspective influenced and manipulated by the people around you. I've ridden you pretty hard for being blind or dense when maybe it was your perspective that hasn't exactly made the things that were obvious to me quite as obvious, or even visible, to you."

Miss Parker chopped at her carrots for a long moment, processing what he was trying to say. "That doesn't make what you were trying to point out to me any less true…"

"No, but it doesn't make my behavior excusable either." He crossed his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry, Parker, for everything. I never meant to hurt you."

"I know you didn't, Jarod. In the end, you were trying to do me a favor; and after everything that's happened, don't think I'm not grateful." She glanced up at him again. "I do draw the line at phone calls at two in the morning…"

"That was mean, I know."

Her hands ceased their work and she genuinely turned and looked at him. "Now don't you go giving yourself a case of the guilts. I haven't been a saint either, and I'm not going to waste time feeling badly over things I can't change."

"Have you ever figured out why we stopped being friends?" he asked her quietly.

She looked back down at her work quickly, lest he see just how startled she was about his thoughts following the same line as her own not that long before. "Not really," she said with a quick shake of the head. "Although I suspect it to be a combination of the fact that I was completely removed from your world and then fed half-truths and lies about you thereafter. Eventually, our friendship became a liability and then a tool for Daddy to use to try to get you back."

"And I followed up by being a pest and a brat and a jerk, dangling little pieces of the truth in front of you and playing mind games and constantly disturbing your sleep." Jarod shook his head. "No wonder you ended up angry with me most of the time." He chased down an escaping carrot coin and tossed it into the pot with the rest. "Do you think we'll ever be able to be friends again, like we were?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "We're different people now."

"Are we?" Jarod asked, and his tone told her that he was asking himself that question as much as he was aiming it at her. "How many of those differences are just masks we've learned to hide behind because living without them makes us too vulnerable?"

She put the paring knife down on the counter and turned to him again. "What do you want from me, Jarod — really?"

He turned earnest chocolate eyes on her and looked deeply into her soul for a long moment before answering. "I don't want to fight with you anymore. I'm tired of always being at odds or competing. And I don't just want a truce. I want an end to the hostilities."

A part of her wanted to throw her arms around him and agree ecstatically, and yet the saner part of her couldn't help advising caution. "And then…?"

"I don't know," he said, entranced by what he was finally beginning to see in her gaze. "I guess we'll figure that one out as time goes by." He straightened slowly and reached out to take her now-empty right hand in his, lacing his fingers in with hers. This felt so right, her hand in his. It always had, he decided with a hard thump of the heart.

"Jarod…" It was hard to fight against the feelings of homecoming that had erupted the moment he'd taken her hand in his. She didn't want to pull away as he slowly moved toward her, as he put his other hand on her shoulder and then encircled her and began to pull her closer. It felt good to be held gently, with respect and affection. "This isn't the time…"

"I know," he replied softly, and then let go of her hand so that he could tip her face up to his. "I just want to make sure that when we DO have the time…" She closed her eyes as he just barely brushed his lips against hers. "…that we both know that we have something left that we need to figure out."

Miss Parker sighed and gave in to her temptations to lean and hold back. "When the time comes," she promised in a whisper. "And I'm OK with the war being over."

Jarod wrapped his arms around her and held her close at along last. "War's over," he repeated, leaning a cheek against the top of her head.

"Jarod, I've got to finish the carrots," she protested without any real fire.

"In a minute," he countered, holding her just a little more securely than before. "I'm enjoying the armistice."

oOoOo

Miss Parker knocked softly on Sydney's door and then peeked her head in. The old psychiatrist was lying on his side on top of the bedspread facing the doorway, still fast asleep. She hated to awaken him – but between the fact that dinner was served and she needed to apologize for being too stubborn for her own good, there was little alternative. "Syd?" she called out to him softly, then reached down and rubbed her hand down an arm. "Sydney?"

His breathing gave a hitch, and then the chestnut eyes were blinking at her. "Oh — my!" he exclaimed when he saw how the light streaming in through his window had changed. "How long did I sleep this time?"

"Dinner's on the table," she smiled down at him. "Jarod said that the boat was rocking like a cradle, that it had almost put him to sleep too."

He yawned. "Speaking of whom, are you two speaking to each other again, or are you…"

She shook her head contritely. "We're really sorry about that, Sydney. We were behaving like spoiled brats. We knew better."

Sydney pushed himself up on an elbow and yawned again. "I suppose I should have expected this: you two haven't exactly been buddy-buddy for a very long time. Things have been fairly tense around here too; something was bound to pop sooner or later."

"Still," she clasped her fingers in front of her like a schoolgirl, "you didn't need to have to deal with us being jerks."

"So you talked things out." It wasn't a question, but she nodded to confirm his statement anyway. "What did you decide?" he asked, rolling and shifting his legs to hang off the edge of the bed.

"I have Sam's number. I'll call him later, when he's sure to be at home and most likely alone. I just won't give him anything except a warning that he needs to not be anywhere near the Centre for a while, nothing about where we are or what's about to happen."

Sydney nodded. "That's much better." He put out a hand and let her pull him to his feet and then stretched. "What's for supper?"

"Guinea-pig surprise," she replied, "complete with mystery meat and kitchen sink recipes. Jarod was finishing setting the table while I came up here to get you."

"Before we go downstairs," he paused and laid a hand on her forearm as she began to turn toward the door, "you can tell me what happened while Jarod and I were out on the lake."

"Sydney…"

"Uh-unh. You said you'd found out that you weren't the best of company for yourself. What was that about?"

"It was stupid and self-centered…"

"And disturbing enough to you that you needed a hug almost immediately the minute I got back," he finished for her. "That isn't like you…" She had looked down at the floor and refused to look at him. "Parker…"

"You don't need to be spending your energy psychoanalyzing me, Syd. I'm just having a few adjustment issues to the new family ties we're making here." She gave him a brave smile. "I'll be OK."

The hand on her forearm didn't move. "Talk to me. I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me, so quit trying to ignore the problem."

"You'll think me foolish…"

"If there's any foolishness, it's thinking that something that bothered you that much IS foolishness," he told her firmly. "What?"

"I was thinking how I've never had to share the affections of anyone with anybody else before," she admitted softly. "I didn't share Momma with anybody, hardly even with Daddy. And now, with you…"

"You're having to share me with Jarod? Is that it?" The more he thought about it, the more he knew he'd pegged the issue. Her nod only confirmed what he'd already guessed.

"That and the fact that I'd been jealous of Jarod for a very long time," she added with a sigh of chagrin. "He'd had you all that time, when I'd had Momma taken away and then got shipped off to school in Europe." She finally touched his gaze with embarrassed grey. "And here he was again – with you out on the lake – with me feeling odd man out again. See, I told you it was stupid."

She tried to pull away, but Sydney's hand held on securely and then pulled her closer. "You've been doing without for a very long time, haven't you?" he asked gently. A quick flick of grey gaze into his answered his question. "And you're afraid of having to do without again because Jarod is stepping back into a place he held a long time ago."

"Sydney…"

He gave another tug. "Come here." He pulled her close enough that he could put his arms around her. "Now listen to me. I'm not going to stop being here for you just because Jarod and I are mending our fences. I told you how much you mean to me. There's no way I can walk away or just leave you odd man out."

"I know that…"

"No," he shook his head, "you don't. If you did, this wouldn't be an issue for you."

She finally sighed and relaxed against him. "I told you I was just having some trouble adjusting…"

"I know, and I'm just making sure you know that I understand, and that I've no intention of shortchanging you in the process of rebuilding bridges with Jarod." His hand found the back of her head and stroked her hair. "You have no idea what it means to me to be able to comfort you, or even chew you out when you deserve it."

"I'm just so afraid," she whispered finally, baring her deepest fear. "Everyone I've ever loved has been taken away; and I'm afraid that now that I've learned how much you mean to me, something's going to happen, and…"

"Hush," he soothed her. "All your life, you've had the Centre looking over your shoulder and pulling the strings of who stayed in your life and who was removed. We aren't in that situation anymore. You don't have to worry about sharing me because, trust me, I have more than enough room in my life for the both of you." His hand cupped the side of her face and made her look at him again. "Do you understand?"

"OK," she agreed hesitantly.

Sydney sighed and put a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I suppose that this will be one of those things that will only become real the longer it's true in your experience. Just know that you don't have to hide when you're feeling insecure anymore. We all have our moments like that."

"OK," she answered again.

"Now come on. I'm hungry, and I want to see just what kind of casserole you can come up with on a kitchen sink recipe and mystery meat." He loosened his hold on her so she could step away.

"I love you, Sydney," she said softly, the fondness in her eyes hesitant and vulnerable. It was getting easier to say.

"I…" Once more the natural reply didn't come easily, but this time, he was determined to make an effort. She had just made herself very vulnerable to him; the time had come for him to do likewise, no matter how insecure it made him in the process. "I love you too, Parker," he replied in an emotional whisper, "always have, and always will." Strange, the statement didn't give him the vulnerable feeling it always had before. Was it the fact that he knew it to be a sentiment returned in full measure that made the difference? He'd have to think on that one… For now, he'd be content with the pleased and startled smile on her face in response.

He gestured in the direction of the door. "Let's go down and eat, shall we?"

oOoOo

"Do you want to listen in?"

Jarod shook his head and reached for yet another helping of the casserole before Sydney could take the dish away to store in the refrigerator. "I don't need to do that. Just remember: nothing about where we are or what we're up to."

Miss Parker nodded. "I'll be back," she said after picking up her cell phone and the scrap of paper on which Jarod had noted down Sam's home phone number. She had the number punched in by the time she was out on the porch, but she waited until she was sitting down on the top step and staring out at the blackness of the lake water that she hit dial. It was an hour later where Sam was; with any luck, he'd be home…"

"Yeah?" She blinked and had to stifle a smirk. Oh, he didn't sound happy in the least!

"Sam."

It only took the one word, and he was instantly alert. "Miss Parker!" he exclaimed. "I thought…"

"Don't think. Just listen. You don't want to go back to the Centre tomorrow."

There was a pause from the other end of the line. "I don't?"

She shook her head. "No, you don't. As a matter of fact, you don't want to be anywhere near the Centre or any of its offices for a while."

"What's going on, Miss Parker? Raines is raising hell and putting blocks under it looking for you and the doc…"

"I figured he would be," she replied evenly. "Couldn't be helped. Look I can't talk long…"

"You're OK?" Sam broke into her statement, his concern overriding his reluctance to stand in her way. "I mean, nobody's… you're OK, right — the doc?"

"I'm fine, Sam, really — we both are." Why did his need for assurance make her choke up? She cleared her throat self-consciously. "I just wanted to touch base with you, and let you know what you needed to think about doing."

"As long as you're OK, ma'am," he countered. "But can't you tell me…"

"I've told you all I should," she stopped him. "It's just…" Her voice lowered into a more intimate tone. "You and I go back a ways, and you've taken good care of my back plenty of times. I just wanted to balance the scales a little."

There was another long pause, and Miss Parker knew that her sweeper was now paying very close attention to the nuances and what she was telling him between the lines. "How will I know when I can come back?" he asked finally in resignation.

"You won't need me to tell you," she answered gently. "Take care of yourself, Sam."

"Wait! How will I get in touch with you when… after…"

She breathed in and out deeply. That was a damned good question. "I honestly don't know," she said sadly. "That may not be possible."

"What about Broots? Do I need to tell him something similar?"

/Good man/ she thought, /you know how to protect the team and all its members/ "You can tell him I send my best," was all she was ready to say.

"Yes, ma'am. I understand." The silence that stretched was almost painful. "Thank you, Miss Parker."

"Thank YOU, Sam. Take good care of yourself, or you'll have me coming along behind and reaming you a new one, get it?"

"Got it, ma'am. You take care of yourself too." He'd made the proper assumptions and knew that this was most likely the last time he'd talk to her. She could hear it in his voice.

"Goodbye, Sam."

"It's been a pleasure working for you, Miss Parker. Goodbye."

She hung up before she gave away the sadness she felt at having to walk away from such a good friend and bodyguard. Jarod would never understand that Sam had never been JUST a sweeper to her. She'd seen him when he was just applying for the job and put in a good word for him with the head of the Security department, then immediately had him assigned to her team the moment he was fully qualified and with all his proper paperwork. She'd taken care that he got none of the shit duties that many of the other sweepers had had to endure at first, and taken personal interest in making sure he was amply paid for his time at her back. She'd been no less difficult to work with, but had let him know in subtle ways that she had a soft spot where he was concerned. In return, he had handed over his loyalty lock, stock and barrel into her keeping. He'd stayed at her back and done his level best to protect her from the slime that crawled the Centre corridors in Armani suits.

She'd miss him.

The screen door behind her opened and shut gently. "You OK?" Jarod inquired softly, noting that she probably hadn't moved since her call ended.

"No," she replied honestly. "I just told a good friend that I'd never see him again. Not in so many words, but he understood."

"I'm sorry, Parker," Jarod said and sat down next to her. "Maybe afterwards…"

"Yeah," she pasted on a smile and tossed her hair out of her eyes to look at him. "Maybe… Then again, maybe not." She rose and looked down at him. "I think I'm just about all in. Do you need me for anything…"

Jarod shook his head. "No, you go on. Sydney and I can finish cleaning up."

She nodded and walked back through the screen door. "I'm calling it a night, Syd," she said, leaving her cell phone on the kitchen table and walking over to her old friend to stretch over a shoulder and drop a kiss on his cheek. "I'll see you in the morning."

"You OK, Parker?" Sydney asked in concern.

"I will be," she told him in a sad and breathy voice. "I just need to sleep on things, ya know?"

"If you need…"

"I just need to get some rest," she shook her head and waved at him as she kept walking on past him.

Jarod watched her walk away, her posture giving away her mood. "I didn't know," he said quietly to Sydney. "I had no idea that would have been so hard on her."

"I dare say there's a lot you don't know about her," Sydney replied cryptically and went back to wiping dishes.


	9. Road Trip

Chapter 9 - Road Trip

Jarod read off what he'd written in his note to the others at the table, then looked back and forth between the faces. "Is there anything else I should tell him?"

Sydney shook his head, unable to think of anything. Miss Parker's hand slid across the table with three one hundred dollar bills. "Just tell him that I appreciate him storing my car for me – and that I'll be back for it as soon as it's safe."

Jarod shook his head at her. "He probably won't want your money, Parker…"

"If he doesn't want it, he can return it when I come to pick it up… after…" She pushed it just a little closer. "Put the money in the envelope, Jarod."

"Does your friend have dustcovers for while he's away?" Sydney asked. "I'm all packed – if throwing one's clothing in a grocery sack can be called packing…" he commented with a wry glance at the white plastic grocery sack on the table with everything that he wasn't wearing folded inside, "and I could use something to do while you two finish cleaning the kitchen for the last time."

Jarod nodded. "Dust covers are in the linen closet – I'll show you where in a sec." He sealed the envelope, wrote his friend's name on the envelope with a bold hand and propped the envelope up against the salt and peppershakers where it could be easily seen. "OK, follow me."

Miss Parker ran a final sink of hot water and quickly washed the few dishes from their breakfast, taking care to clean the coffee pot until it looked new. She dried everything and put it back in the cupboards where it belonged, then carried the ice chest to the refrigerator into which she could load all the perishables they had bought for their stay. Another grocery sack would hold the non-perishables – bread and cookies and other finger foods that could keep them from starving on the road. The bottled water had never been stored anywhere but in its flat, which had already been moved to the table.

The laptop chirped, announcing the arrival of a new email. "Jarod – email," she announced as she put the ice chest on the table next to the sack of snack foods and then lifted Sydney's briefcase up into a chair so that it wouldn't get forgotten. "And don't forget your own luggage…"

"I'm ahead of you," he breezed into the kitchen bearing his huge duffel bag and the canvas case to his laptop.

"That's all your stuff?" she asked with a critical eye.

Jarod smirked at her. "I've always traveled rather light – and everything I really value will either fit on my body, into the bag, or into the laptop case. Someone told me once that we don't own things – they own us. So far, that seems to be rather true." He sat down at the laptop and brought up the email. "All RIGHT!" he crowed. "That was Bailey – my friend in the Atlanta bureau office. They got the VCD I sent of the DSA data I captured yesterday – the warrants are being cut as we speak, and the raid is planned for tomorrow evening."

"Are we going to get there in time?" Sydney worried, popping around the corner of the kitchen doorway, a partially unfolded dust cover in his hands.

"With three of us able to drive, we won't have to slow down for anything. We have enough food and drink – although it would probably do us some good to buy some caffeinated drinks just in case." Jarod pulled a pen and paper from his pocket, noted down some information from the email, then closed down the laptop.

"We have to hit the bank too, right?" Parker inquired pointedly. "You did do that transfer of funds, didn't you?"

Jarod gave a knowing smirk. "Do you think we'll be able to make do with twenty thousand cash?"

Sydney disappeared after a startled and appreciative look. Miss Parker shrugged. "That should keep us going at least for a little while…"

"There are branches of this bank in Delaware, Parker," he continued to smirk. "The twenty large is just traveling money – I emptied a well-hidden slush account into the account yesterday after we spoke and then I confirmed yesterday evening that the funds were there and warned the manager about the amount I would be withdrawing today. Twenty thousand won't even make a dent in what's there."

"Good thing your friend at the bureau doesn't know what you do in your spare time," she returned with an appreciative nod. "I doubt he'd be so cooperative."

"I know he has his suspicions," Jarod admitted, coiling the telephone cord so that it would fit into the pocket of the case, "and if it weren't so damned important, I'd not have bothered him. I'll have to explain how I was able to capture that video feed to his satisfaction this time, I suppose…"

"Considering all the worms that are going to be crawling out of the Centre after this raid," Sydney contributed, re-entering the kitchen, "maybe you should just come clean and tell him everything."

"And face charges for impersonating an officer? I don't think that's such a great idea," Jarod shook his head. "No, actually I think I'll put the credit for acquiring the data on your head, Miss Parker."

"Say what?" she gaped, less than thrilled.

"You're with Centre Security, at least technically, right?" he reminded her, and she nodded confirmation. "Then for you to have access to the data to begin with and be in the position to make a VCD copy of a DSA wouldn't raise half as many eyebrows as it would if I were to admit that I hacked into a proprietary computer networks and recorded live feed from a protected server. Mr. Raines will probably not be very happy with you when it comes to trial time, but…"

She sighed. "Well, at least it isn't as if I give a damn what Raines thinks when this is all over and done with…"

"That's what I thought," Jarod thrust the adaptor into the larger pocket and made sure all the zippers were fastened. "That's it – I'm all packed." He gazed at the tumble of luggage and grocery bags. "Is that it?"

"I have to bring mine down yet, and then I'm finished," she replied.

"I'll get the SUV out so we can stow stuff," Jarod announced, pulling his car keys from his pocket and heading toward the door. "Sydney, why don't you start moving things out onto the porch…"

By the time Miss Parker returned with the grocery sack that was her luggage in one hand and her purse strap thrown over a shoulder, most of their belongings had been moved onto the porch and Jarod was stowing things in the back end of the SUV as Sydney handed them to him. "I'll do a quick walk-through and make sure we're not forgetting anything," she told the men after delivering her burden to the back porch.

Finally, however, she was standing next to Sydney and Jarod by the vehicle, looking at the house that had been their temporary refuge. "We ended up staying not as long as we planned after all," she commented quietly. "I hope your friend understands how much we appreciate…"

"Maybe, when this is all over, we'll swing back through after he gets home from Europe and I'll introduce you, and then you can tell him yourself," Jarod suggested gently. "Jack's a pretty decent guy – you might even like him a little."

Sydney gazed back and forth between his companions. "Are we ready?"

"Next stop, the bank – and after that, Blue Cove."

"Yippee kai-oh kai-ay," Miss Parker mumbled to herself under her breath.

oOoOo

"Here," Jarod handed Miss Parker and Sydney each roughly a third of the bulky paper he'd retrieved from the bank branch. "We need to divide all this between us so that none of us are without resources if we get separated."

"Who's up first to drive?" Miss Parker asked sharply. "If nobody minds, I'll take the first shift."

Jarod opened his mouth to complain but thought better of it. "Just keep it no more than seven miles over the limit," he cautioned her as he slipped into the passenger seat next to her. "We don't need to start collecting speeding tickets…"

"I'll have you know that I managed not to get a single ticket all the way here," she replied with arched eyebrows and a quick rev of the engine. "Contrary to public opinion, I DO know when to rein in my horns." She eased the SUV away from the curbing and aimed it in the direction of the connector to the interstate.

"Where are the guns?" Sydney asked suddenly. "At least, where's mine?"

"Yours is in your briefcase in the back," Jarod replied. "At least, that's where I put it after I did the check for the bugs a few days ago. Did either of you move it?"

Miss Parker shook her head with a slightly extended lower lip, while Sydney stated, "I haven't seen it to touch it – that was why I asked."

"Then it's probably still there," Jarod reasoned. "We can check at the next fill-up, though, if it would make you feel better."

"I'd prefer to know where it is than just assume it will be there when and if it's needed," Sydney replied, settling back in his seat.

The next few minutes passed in silence, and then Miss Parker carefully steered the vehicle onto the interstate, headed east. "I can't believe we're headed back home again so soon," she said, shaking her head as she set the cruise control for the requisite seven miles over the posted speed limit and then relaxed a little. "I was actually thinking that I'd never see that Hell-hole again in my life and enjoying the whole idea."

"I doubt any of us are all that thrilled, Parker," Jarod replied, shifting in his seat to try to make himself and his long legs comfortable for a long time stationary. "If it weren't important, I doubt any of us would be even thinking of this." He shifted again and leaned forward toward the stereo. "Should I turn on some music?"

"Something easy-listening," Sydney suggested over the back of the seat. "We don't need anything too lively or intense. Having three people cooped up in this small space for essentially twenty-four hours straight will be hard enough on the temper."

Jarod turned on the radio and immediately had Parker barking for reduced volume until he got it away from the oldies station he'd been listening to at the end of his own drive. "You just don't know what's good for a road trip," he tossed at her as he eased the tuner the length of the dial until he finally hit a station that they all could agree on.

"I suppose you just drove down the interstate singin' along with the radio at the top of your lungs," Miss Parker shook her head at him.

"What's wrong with that?" he wanted to know. "I've done it several times, alone and with somebody, and it can be fun…"

"I bet you can't carry a tune in a bucket," Miss Parker announced with a sideways glance.

"Wanna back that one up with green?" Jarod retorted, shifting in his seat again and leaning forward to the radio dial.

"Can it, you two," came the exasperated voice of reason from the back seat. "For my money, anything other than light classics is pushing it – and I'd really rather NOT get a headache from any caterwauling just to prove a point…"

"Spoilsport," Jarod grumbled with a mischievous sideways glance at the driver.

Miss Parker caught the glance and smirked. "At least SOMEBODY in this car has some taste…"

Sydney just shook his head at the idea that it was going to be this way all the way across the continent — twenty-four plus hours of sibling rivalry? He loved them both dearly, but at this rate would be willing to murder either one or both of them by the time they reached eastern Pennsylvania. "Parker…"

oOoOo

Jarod pulled the SUV back onto the interstate and set the cruise control again. Next to him, Sydney adjusted the volume on the radio and brought in another easy listening station that had a little less static to it. The older man settled against the seat comfortably and let his eyes rest on his former protégé's profile for a while. "Where are we going to hole up in Delaware, once we get there?"

"I was thinking that the one place the Centre wouldn't think of looking for us now would be at your cabin at White Cloud," Jarod responded without taking his eyes off the road. "Nine chances out of ten, sweepers have already been through the place with a fine-toothed comb looking for clues as to where you took off to – they'd have no reason to come back and give it another toss now."

"That's several hours outside Blue Cove," Sydney pointed out quietly, glancing over the back of the seat at Miss Parker, already apparently fast asleep and sprawling in the back seat. "How…"

"I want a place where Parker and I can leave you in safety while we go closer to the lion's den to pick up Angelo and the baby," Jarod explained quickly. "We're going to be getting into town a while before the Feds raid the place – I'd rather us have been in and out already without being recognized beforehand."

Sydney turned and stared out the windshield for a long moment. "I don't want to have to sit quietly by the hearth and wait like some old man," he told his protégé firmly. "I've had enough of sitting around and waiting for other people to do the right thing in my life, thank you. Even if it takes using some of that damned Grecian Formula to placate you, I'm not going to sit things out on the sidelines. I intend to be sticking it out with you two all the way."

"You don't need to…"

"Yes, I do." Sydney was adamant, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "You have no idea what it feels like to know that there is something that needs doing — that a simple sense of humanity demands — and feeling powerless to act. I won't go there again, Jarod. Not again."

"OK, OK," Jarod soothed. "I was just worried that the stress of having to try to keep from being recognized would do your blood pressure a mischief…"

"Having to sit on my thumbs and wait for you and Parker to go into the mouth of Hell and come back out safely would do a much worse mischief, I promise you," Sydney retorted. "Half of the reason we're doing this is my fault…"

"Fault has nothing to do with it, Syd," came a sleepy voice from the back seat. "What you presented us was only the straw that broke the camel's back. I have a hunch that Jarod here has been hunting for a solid way to bring the Centre down all along." She sat up and leaned forward to put a hand on the driver's shoulder. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Jarod shook his head slowly. "You're not. I've been looking for a break like this ever since I escaped — but I wasn't going to act until I had a fool-proof way to keep you two and a few others out of the line of fire when things came down."

"I'm still not sitting at the cabin and waiting for you two to come back safely. I can watch your back…"

"Relax, Sydney, I'm on your side," Miss Parker soothed, moving the hand from one man's shoulder to the other's. "But we're STILL going to have to land somewhere for the two of you to take care of your appearances. I heard you about the Grecian Formula, Syd, and I'm gonna hold you to it."

"Does that mean I get to shave my head after all?" Jarod quipped a little more brightly.

"NO!" was the unified response from two startled and disgusted voices.

"I brought along the rest of the peroxide and the hair color you picked up for me, Mr. Pez-For-Brains," Miss Parker shook her head in exasperation. "While Syd does his Grecian Formula number in the shower, you get to go blonde over the kitchen sink."

"At the cabin?" Sydney inquired.

"Like Jarod says, sweepers have probably already been through the place," Miss Parker reasoned. "Besides, it's far enough out of the way that unless they've left somebody up there watching it — which would be pretty stupid — nobody will know we're there. We rest up a bit, Jarod can set up his laptop and check for messages from Angelo and the FBI, then you two can do your hair color things and we get back on the road."

"Not bad," Jarod nodded approvingly. "But go to sleep, Parker. Sydney will need a co-pilot who's nicely rested in a few hours."

"I can't sleep with you two talking about stuff like this," she protested. "I'm afraid I'll miss something important."

"Sleep, Parker," Sydney soothed. "If something important is covered, I'll make sure you're brought up to speed later."

"OK," she relented and laid herself back down on the comfortable seat, sighing as her head hit the pillow that they'd 'borrowed' from their refuge. A sweet and gentle version of a folk tune flowed from the speakers uninterrupted and soon had her drifting away in its wake.

"Have you decided what you're going to do AFTER we've accomplished everything we've set out to do?" Sydney asked very quietly after casting an eye over the back seat to make sure she was asleep again.

Jarod shot a sharp glance to his right, and then stretched up to use the rear view mirror to check on Miss Parker asleep behind him. "Not really," he admitted in a very soft voice. "We're going to have to set up some kind of household established for the baby — find some place to just live for a while and get the kid used to being with family… And there's Angelo to think of…"

"What about your own family?" Sydney asked, voicing Miss Parker's fears for the first time. "You'll finally be free to look for them without having to keep an eye over your shoulder…"

"I know," the Pretender said in a surprisingly flat voice.

There was an undercurrent in his protégé's tone that surprised Sydney greatly. "You ARE going to look for them, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Jarod responded almost automatically, then added, "but I'll need to stick around to make sure you and Parker get settled in properly. I can't just walk away from this anymore — not for any huge length of time. This is…" He struggled to understand his own reluctance to resume his fevered search for his biological family. "You two are family too, whatever else happens."

Sydney accepted the answer and stared out the windshield at the passing scenery for a long moment. Then: "Your parents — your sister and Gemini included — probably will be less than understanding of your feelings of attachment to Parker and me. You may be faced with some real resentments there."

"I don't know what I'll do at that point." Jarod's voice was low and troubled. "I don't want to be forced to sacrifice one family for the sake of the other, to choose one over the other. I told you that my family is just going to have to accept that I come with attachments — you, Parker, Angelo, and probably the baby by the time I find them or they find me."

"That's a fine ideal, Jarod," Sydney soothed gently, "but the unfortunate side of human nature is that things rarely go as planned. What if they refuse to share and demand that you choose — what then?"

"Are you pushing me away again?"

"No, Jarod, I'm not pushing you away at all." Sydney's tone was firm and gentle. "There's a world of difference between my pushing you away so that you'll have the space and impetus to forge a father-son relationship with Major Charles and my simply pointing out uncomfortable possibilities when your real family enters the picture for you again. For my own part, I'm ready to live with whatever you decide as far as the way you handle your relationships are concerned — in a way, I've been lucky enough to finally be able to have the father-son tie with you we both have wanted after all these years. You need to remember that your real father hasn't been that lucky yet — your meetings with him have generally been fleeting or overwhelming dangerous, and you hadn't even met him until a couple of years ago. He may very well want some uninterrupted, private time to make connections, as will your mother."

"You sound like you understand what he's going through."

"I do. I never had the chance to connect to Nicholas, and now I never will. I know exactly what your father's going through." Sydney's voice rippled with restrained grief. "I would like to think that if only Nicholas and I COULD have had some uninterrupted, private time, we could have…"

"Sydney…" Jarod's right hand left the wheel and landed on his former mentor's shoulder.

"It's OK," Sydney patted the hand, appreciating the sentiment behind the gesture. "I may have lost one son, but I've gained the son AND daughter I thought I'd never have. Considering that I started out with nothing at all, I can't complain that much."

"You see, that's why I can't walk away anymore. We finally DO have that connection I wanted all those years ago."

"Would you deny that connection to your father, Jarod? To your mother and sister?"

"No," he protested, bring his hand back to the wheel, "but just like I know that they are a collective entity that comes as a package deal, I come as a package deal now too. Just because I'll need to give my folks private, uninterrupted time doesn't mean I have to abandon you or Parker. They'll have to learn to share me."

"And if they don't want to?"

"That's not their choice to make — it's mine, and I've made it." Jarod said firmly. "I have a family already. That's not negotiable." He drove along for a while in stony silence and then deliberately banished the topic from his mind to focus on something a little less disturbing. "What about you? Are you going to be ready to retire and be a stay-at-home ex-shrink?"

Sydney chuckled silently. "Ex-shrink? I don't think so! My psychiatric skills are hardly going to fall into disuse with Angelo in the house, with all the adjusting that he'll need to make to live safely outside an institutional setting. And, frankly, I'm probably going to enjoy living within a family grouping again — I've been alone for a very long time now. Too long, to be honest…"

"So you intend to stick close to family for the time being too, eh?" Jarod teased very carefully.

"Absolutely. Even with the Centre out of our hair, I have nowhere else to go, nobody else to be with."

"Parker has Broots and his little girl, and this sweeper…"

"Sam," Sydney supplied the name automatically. "Sam was a trusted colleague and, I suppose, a friend, Jarod — not family. Now Broots and Debbie are another story, however — Parker has played surrogate mother to that little girl more than once now. You notice that it was HE that Parker thought of first when it came to warning those still in the Centre, and not Sam?"

"And Broots is a friend of yours too, right?"

Sydney nodded. "We've each watched the other's back against the Centre, even against Parker sometimes, for years. He's a good man."

"I know. He's a very decent human being. Debbie's lucky to have him as her Dad."

"And Parker's very lucky to have the two of them as friends. Debbie has softened her in ways that nobody else could. Debbie reminds her of herself at that age — no mother, a father often obliged to spend long hours at work…"

"Not for the same reason," Jarod quickly countered.

"No, of course not," Sydney agreed, "but the result is very similar. The only difference is that Broots genuinely adores his daughter and takes every chance he can get to show her how much he cares. Parker's never did, and she never let anybody close enough to make up the difference — until now."

"Parker needs a father-figure very badly — I'm glad she'll have you from now on," Jarod nodded in satisfaction.

"I promised her mother that I would try to take care of her," Sydney replied in a reminiscing voice. "I think we both knew at the time that Mr. Parker would never be the kind of father to her that she deserved. I didn't do a very good job keeping my promise to Catherine until after you escaped and Parker was called back from Corporate. But since then, as much as she'd let me…" He twisted in his seat so he could look into the back and check on the subject of his musing. Reaching, he managed to save his suit jacket from tumbling to the floorboard and pulled it a little more securely over her shoulder.

"We just need to decide where we want to live when this is over," Jarod stated softly, finally, "whether we stay in Blue Cove, where you two already own property, or we pick up stakes entirely and go somewhere else. Other than that," he fingered the turn signal as he pulled into the fast lane to pass another vehicle, "we'll be hanging together fairly closely from now on. I don't think we NEED much more of a plan than that for after the fall of the Centre."

"If there's a plan to be made, it should be for what we need to do if the Centre DOESN'T fall apart — if the Triumvirate swoops in and takes over day-to-day control." Sydney shuddered at the idea.

"If everything goes as I intend, there won't be much left for the Triumvirate to control, Sydney," Jarod stated unequivocally. "The kidnapping of Ricky Santos will lead directly into the files on the Pretender Project — especially since the project name is included in the encrypted textual data on each DSA — which will lead to…"

"You," Sydney said quietly, "and me, and Parker, and Angelo."

"Not exactly," Jarod shook his head. "There's a worm in the Centre mainframe, just waiting for me to peek in the backdoor of the system and activate it, that will delete your name and Parker's and Broots' from its databanks. When I check the laptop at White Cloud for a message from Angelo, I intend to turn that baby loose." The smile that curved the Pretender's lips was not a kind one. "The Centre's always put too many of its eggs in the Pretender basket — you know that. And once the Pretender Project starts to unravel, the proof will be there of what the Centre's been up to for years, including some of the more… unethical… experiments Raines and even Lyle used to wait for you to be absent for a while to run." Jarod looked at his mentor. "The feds won't find you, Sydney, but they'll find enough otherwise to warrant taking the Centre's research and business practices apart piece by piece. By the time the feds are done with it, I'm betting that the Triumvirate will inherit a pariah firm whose only worth will be in the capitol to be made in liquidation sales of office and lab equipment."

The older man had to give Jarod credit; he'd indeed planned out his vengeance against the Centre and those who had held him prisoner for the greater part of his life VERY carefully. The plan was thorough, and virtually foolproof. All they had to do was make sure Angelo and the baby were safely out of harm's way before anything started to come down.

Sydney fell into a comfortable silence and watched the afternoon light mellow as the hills in the distance grew closer and closer.

oOoOo

Miss Parker turned her head and gazed affectionately at the dark silhouette of Sydney's head as he guided the SUV down the open road with the ease of a man used to traveling long distances. Jarod had been uncharacteristically willing to try to lie down in the back seat and get some rest after his driving shift had ended, and his quickly falling deeply asleep had left the two of them the only ones awake and aware. She'd never felt quite so close and comfortable with Sydney as she did in that moment when he was in the traditional position of a father driving his children somewhere. She felt safe. "You know what, Syd?"

"Hmmm?" he asked in return, taking the time to glance over at her face while it was momentarily illuminated by the glow of oncoming headlights.

"I'm glad we're doing this together."

Sydney dropped his right hand from the wheel and patted her knee gently and paternally. "I am too," he said gently. "I'm glad you came and found me and knocked some sense into me before I did something really stupid." He returned his hand to the steering wheel.

"Which reminds me — I've been meaning to tell you that I'm sorry for what I said to you at the cabin…"

"Do you even remember what you said to me at the cabin?" she asked in surprise.

"Not really," he admitted with some chagrin, "but knowing how I can get when I do start drinking and don't stop, I'd imagine it wasn't kind at all. After all, you ended up decking me in the end…"

She shook her head at him. "Sydney, the only reason I ended up decking you was because you were determined to take that gun of yours out to Jacob's grave and do yourself in, and you wouldn't listen to reason. But considering what I'd told you earlier, you have very little to apologize for," she twisted slightly on the seat so that she could look more directly at him as he drove. "I figure most of what you said to me that morning was the whiskey talking anyway."

"And you wonder why I don't drink very often."

She chuckled in wry amusement. "Not anymore, I don't." She was silent a moment. "And considering everything, I suppose I should take a clue and put an end to my own tippling. I know my ulcer will appreciate it…"

"That's not a bad idea, especially since you're going to have a small child in the house, looking up to you as the first parental role model he's ever had," he agreed with a quick nod. "You need to be consistent in setting a good example." He glanced at her. "'Do as I say, not as I do' isn't a good childrearing philosophy."

She fell quiet for a long moment, thinking about the child that she hadn't seen in months. "You know, Syd, they never gave my little brother a name."

He shook his head. "Why am I not surprised," he commented sourly. "He was never meant to be anything but a commodity. There are times that I wonder that Jarod had been allowed to keep his name. A name grants humanity, a certain dignity, to an individual — something I can't imagine the Centre wanting to grant to anybody they view as only a means to an end."

"But what am I going to call him?"

Sydney turned and smiled in her direction, his face illuminated by a streetlamp on the side of the highway over an emergency call box. "You get to choose his name, Parker — you're the one person of all of us who has the most right to do so."

"Help me, Sydney."

"I know that you'll choose wisely," he reassured her, reaching his right hand out to her knee again. "You don't need my help half as much as you think you do. Maybe you could ask him if he has any preferences of his own — the boy is intelligent, maybe he's heard a name that he likes and would want to claim as his own." He felt her grab hold of his hand and not let go, and his fingers tightened around hers just a little. "Still feeling a sense of inadequacy, are you?" he asked softly.

"That's a masterpiece of understatement," she responded dryly. "I can do a lot of things, Syd — I can turn a man into a mouse with a glance, intimidate other women with just my posture, organize and run a security department for a multinational corporation, chase runaway geniuses without losing my sanity… But the thought of being responsible for one small child…"

"Actually, your nervousness is a good sign — it means you take your responsibility seriously and will be going into this with intentions of doing the best job of it that you can." He could feel her clinging to his hand desperately. "I'd be more worried about both you and the boy if you were taking a very cavalier attitude about things. What I'm seeing from you right now reminds me of how your mother would have reacted — where the other response would be far more like your father for my liking."

"That's part of what I'm afraid of," she admitted, bringing her other hand over so that she had his hand firmly caught between hers. "I spent so much more time with him growing up…"

"And yet you've clung to your memories of your mother all this time, used them to comfort yourself when you couldn't allow anyone else close enough to comfort you." He eased the vehicle into a long, sweeping turn to follow the highway. "You've kept yourself closer to her than you ever were to your father…"

"I wish you'd have been my father," she blurted out before she could stop the words.

The words went straight to his heart. "I wish I had been too," he replied in a whisper. But the words he'd said were inadequate, and she was still very vulnerable. "I love you very much, Parker," he said in that same whisper, finding it a little easier to say than it had been the last time. "I always have."

"I'm glad I know that now," she sighed, resting the side of her head against the headrest to watch him again. "And I should have known it before — you haven't exactly been hiding the sentiment all that well, now that I look back on things..."

"I must have done well enough," he reminded her. "And you certainly didn't let on much at all yourself either. I was fairly certain…"

"I know…" Her voice had a pinched quality to it that told him that he'd touched a nerve. "I've done some stupid and mean things before, but I swear I've never been so ashamed of anything in my life." She was silent for a moment. "God, Sydney, I was so thoughtless, so cruel… I am so sorry…"

"Hush…" he soothed, having to blink to keep his own eyes from tearing up. "That's all behind us now. Everything's out in the open, where it belongs."

"I meant what I said — I'm glad we're doing this together, Syd."

He pulled on her hands until he could kiss one of them. "Me too, Parker. Me too."

Finally she was able to release her hold on him. Her hands fell quietly into her lap as she leaned back against the headrest again and watched the silhouette of his head occasionally be lit by the light from the oncoming traffic. She had known this man all her life, she felt closer to him now than she had ever felt to her own father, and yet she knew so very little about him — about where he came from. "Tell me something?"

"What would you like to know?"

"Tell me about YOUR parents — what were they like?"

"MY parents?" Sydney glanced over at her in shock, and then realized what she was doing. She was adopting him into her mind and heart as the father she'd always wanted. In making his heritage her own, it was natural that she needed a sense of family history to go with it — HIS family history. That realization unlocked doors that had been kept tightly closed for decades.

"My father was a big man, or at least that's how it seemed to Jacob and me at the time," he started slowly and then warmed to the topic, "with big hands and a barrel chest that seemed a mile across. He had a big smile and a deep, jovial laugh that was very contagious. He was a school teacher and a poet who did carpentry and other handyman-type jobs on the side. My mother was a free-lance journalist and a singer. She had a beautiful alto voice. She would sing while she worked in the kitchen sometimes, and Jacob and I would sit on the floor just around the corner and listen to her."

"What did your mother look like?" Miss Parker asked, enthralled that she'd actually managed to get Sydney, one of the most secretive and private of men, to open up so completely about a family and childhood he'd managed to keep hidden from everyone.

Sydney smiled to himself as he brought the image of his mother up in his mind. "She was a small woman — Papa used to just tower over her, I remember. She had dark hair, much like yours," he answered softly, "and eyes that would change color from green to grey to brown depending on which dress she wore that day. She had a beautiful smile and just this way about her that would tell you that everything was going to be OK." He glanced over at his audience and saw he had her completely spellbound. "Her mother lived with us for a while, and having the two of them in the house together made for the most wonderful place in the world to grow up. They were so much alike, except my Grandmère's hair was all silver…"

"I never knew any of my grandparents," Miss Parker mused aloud. "Mom would talk about an Aunt Dorothy from time to time, but I think now that was a cover story she told when she was getting ready to go to Maine and visit Ben Miller. No Aunt Dorothy ever came to visit, and Momma never showed me any pictures of her." She gave a deep sigh. "It was always just Momma and Daddy and me — nobody else."

It was just as he thought — she was looking for a sense of heritage that she could borrow to replace the totally inadequate one she'd grown up with. She wanted to belong. Well, he certainly didn't mind sharing his family with her now — after all, this was his daughter he was talking to now, and not just an old family friend. "My father's name was Jean-Michel, and my mother was Greta. Grandmère was Genevieve."

"Was your last name always Green?"

He chuckled. "No — of course not. Papa's family had come from Germany many generations earlier. Our name was Gröen." The umlauted sound of his real name felt strange to pronounce after all these years. "Maman was French — from Aix-en-Provence. When my grandmother would begin to tell stories of her youth, they were always set there."

"I thought you were Flemish."

"I am, or at least, Papa was. His family lived in Luxembourg — he moved to Lyons to be with my mother after they were married. But we spent a great deal of time in Belgium before the war." He glanced at her again. "Remember, Parker, Europe is a very small place."

She stared out the windshield into the darkness of the nighttime freeway carrying them all home, mulling over everything that he'd told her. "Grern," she attempted to pronounce his real last name correctly. Funny, the umlaut sound hadn't seemed that difficult to hear — she hadn't thought it hard to make until just then. "Gerrn"

"Gröen," he corrected gently with an indulgent smile. "It takes practice."

"Gren."

"You're getting there. You have to round your lips more…"

oOoOo

The dark and narrow road took a final turn, and then the dark outline of the fishing cabin could be seen against the star-filled sky. "We're here," Jarod announced. "Better get her up…"

Sydney reached over the back of the seat and shook Miss Parker's ankle. "Wake up," he called gently. "We're here."

As Miss Parker stirred, the jacket of Sydney's that she had draped over her shoulders slipped to the floorboard. "What time is it?" she asked sleepily, pushing herself so that finally she was sitting up and staring blearily out into the darkness. She shivered and reached for the fallen jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Four-thirty in the morning," Jarod answered after checking his watch. "And from the looks of things, I don't think the Centre is keeping any eye on the place."

"I don't know where my keys are," Sydney said, stretching in his seat.

"I left them on the coffee table, Syd," Miss Parker answered with a yawn. "I didn't know that we would need them again – frankly, I was working on what Jarod thought would be the scenario, and I didn't figure that either of us would ever be back here again."

"You know what they say about 'the best-laid plans of mice and men,' Parker," Jarod quipped and then pulled the keys from the ignition. "And as for any worries about getting in, I assure you that I'm more than competent at picking locks…"

"Just keep an eye out for motion detectors," Miss Parker warned suddenly. "That would be the one thing that the Centre MIGHT set out that would trigger alarms."

"Damn them," Sydney mumbled in frustration.

"Hand me my duffel bag," Jarod told her, turning around in his seat so that he'd be able to take it from her right away. "I should be able to tell if there are any infrared devices with that meter I used on the bugs and trackers." He grunted the bag into the space between the driver's seat and Sydney and then rummaged around until he pulled out the device he'd been searching for. "You two stay put until I give you the all-clear."

"Wait a minute!" Miss Parker cried, putting a restraining hand on his left shoulder from behind. "What if you accidentally trip something before you know it?"

"We'll be as careful as we can, but the fact is that we aren't going to be here very long anyway," Jarod reassured her. "At the most we'll be here just long enough for me to turn blonde and check my email, and for Sydney to shed a decade or two. There won't be enough time for the Centre to send out sweepers to check us out before we'll be long gone. And not long after that, they'll be a little too busy to care much what's going on up here." He opened his door cautiously, sweeping the device from side to side. "Sit tight – I'll be right back."

The two of them waited patiently as Jarod made a very careful sweep of the entire front of the cabin and then vanished from sight into the interior. There was no movement, no sign of Jarod whatsoever for what seemed to be a very long time. "I don't like this," Miss Parker stated worriedly and was about to climb from the car when the interior lights in the cabin flared and Jarod appeared in the front door, waving them in.

"You had me worried," she grumbled at him as she stalked through the door past him.

"You were right, there were motion detectors in place – but they were all inside here," Jarod explained, pointing to the flagstones of the hearth where the debris from several demolished small devices was scattered. "I had to find them and work around them to disarm them without setting them off."

"Are you sure you got them all?" Sydney eyed the debris with disgust and then looked around at the living room itself, which looked as if a cyclone had hit it. "My God! Did they have to trash the place?"

"You're talking about sweepers, Syd," Miss Parker reminded him with a gentle and sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "With few exceptions, none of them have the IQ of a rock."

"Except Sam?" Jarod asked pointedly.

"Sam," she nodded at him with a frown, "and Willy, Raines' personal goon." She dropped a white plastic grocery bag on the coffee table that Jarod had just righted. "OK boys, here's your disguises. Syd, the shower's yours – Jarod, you get the kitchen sink."

"Sydney — don't change clothing. We don't have the time to have to check out new belts or shoes for bugs," Jarod reminded the older man. "And just what do you think you'll be doing while we're doing that?" he demanded of Miss Parker with raised brows as he picked peroxide and rinse from the bag and tossed the little box of Grecian Formula at his former mentor.

"Fixing breakfast," she replied archly, "and maybe cleaning the place up a bit. Something tells me that this wouldn't be such a bad place to land after we get Angelo and my little brother out of the Centre – we could sit out the first shock waves here and THEN decide where we want to go."

"Make it a light meal," Sydney suggested from the foot of the stairs. "None of us need to feel weighted down or lethargic from here on out. And make some coffee – strong. We'll need all our wits and attention about us."

"Go on, Sydney," Miss Parker waved at him. "I'll have something decent for you to eat when you come back down." She turned to the Pretender, looking down at the boxes in his hands with some trepidation. "Come along, Boy-Genius. Let's see if you can read the instructions on the side of a box of hair color. I know it's a little more complicated than shaving your head, but I have faith in you…"

"Cuuuuute, Parker," Jarod grumbled as he led the way into the kitchen. "Not funny, but cute."


	10. Taking Care of Business

Chapter 10 – Taking Care of Business

"Well? Am I more presentable now?"

Miss Parker's head came up from where she had been looking over a very blonde Jarod's shoulder at the laptop screen, and she smiled after giving a start of surprise. "My God, Syd! You look like you did about twenty years ago – only your hair is a little longer now than you wore it then…"

Jarod looked up and stared. "She's right, Sydney. And your hair isn't purple at all." Miss Parker chortled at the remark and at Sydney's answering expression of mild exasperation. This was yet another sign that Jarod still hadn't gotten over his tendency to take things far too literally — one of his more endearing traits.

But then it was Sydney's turn to stare. Jarod had taken the time to even lighten his eyebrows, so that the two of them standing at the table looked very much like siblings. "You look very…" he began and then stopped. Never, in all his years, had he ever imagined seeing both Jarod and Miss Parker gone blonde. "…different."

"I made some toast," Miss Parker pointed to a plate sitting on the stove, "and the coffee's fresh."

"Any news?" Sydney asked as he headed first for the coffeepot.

"Bailey tells me that the raid is on for five-thirty tonight. That gives us the two hours or so it will take to get to Blue Cove, plenty of time to sit and wait for Angelo, and then two or so more hours to beat it back here while the feds swoop in." Jarod picked up his coffee cup and drained what was in it. "And I heard from Angelo – he's ready to move and will be waiting for us at the rendezvous point at three this afternoon. He told me that they leave the boy alone for a fifteen minute interval right after he finishes his afternoon play session, and that he'll loop the surveillance so that he can get him out through the vents before they realize he's missing."

"What if my little brother doesn't want to go with him?" Miss Parker worried.

Jarod was shaking his head. "Angelo said that he's been visiting the boy off and on for a while now, looping the cameras during that short period several days every week so that the visits are unsuspected by sweepers – and has been telling him about the adventure they were going to go on this afternoon. Knowing Angelo, I doubt that your brother will resist."

"And just where IS this rendezvous point?" Sydney wanted to know.

"There's a ventilation port just outside the Centre property line behind a small grove of trees, believe it or not," Jarod stated, rising and heading toward the coffeepot himself for a refill. "I've used it several times to get in and out of the Centre – and, believe it or not, it tends to be completely unwatched. I've wondered several times if it even still appears on any of the security schematics anymore."

"But what if…" Miss Parker began.

"I wouldn't worry, Parker," Jarod shook his head. "If they've installed anything new by way of security, Angelo will have already taken care of it. He's always been about two steps ahead of the Centre when it came to getting into things or disarming alarm devices they'd set up in the heating and ventilation system." He looked up at her and caught himself before he burst out laughing at the expression on her face. "Don't look so surprised," he chuckled. "That's why he so very rarely was anywhere when Raines would come looking for him, but always seemed to make himself available to you when you or Sydney would need his talents."

"Did you take care of that systems bug that will wipe out all traces of Sydney and Broots from the mainframe?" she asked after she'd recovered.

"Yup – I've been in and out of the Centre mainframe, first to make sure that both boys are still where they're supposed to be, second to make sure that they'll be where they're supposed to be when Angelo and then the feds come looking, and third to set off the worm. It should be nicely into the heart of the mainframe, eating away at Sydney's and Broots' history as we speak." He glanced into her face as he moved past her to sit back down again. "I even modified it slightly just before I set it loose. Sam will vanish too now, along with Sydney and Broots. Your friend's safe."

Miss Parker's face suddenly lit up as if from within in surprise and delight at his thoughtfulness despite his reservations, and she bent over him and dropped a quick kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Jarod," she exclaimed softly. "You don't know how much I appreciate that."

Jarod's face softened and then flushed slightly. Miss Parker had turned away to serve Sydney some toast almost immediately, and so she missed the brief expression of utter confusion and bemused affection that blinked over his features — but Sydney didn't. Jarod looked over at his old mentor and saw that the older man was observing him placidly, and then flushed again slightly at the idea that he'd been caught out in a moment of weakness. Sydney merely shook his head at him very slightly, and Jarod smiled back in reply — and in gratitude for his mentor's keeping his mouth shut. He didn't know how he felt about the way Miss Parker could still confuse him so easily, but he knew that he didn't want HER knowing anything about it yet.

Sydney carefully schooled his face to utter neutrality. The dynamics between Miss Parker and Jarod were changing, and suddenly he could see that the fluid nature of their relationship very well could be part of the reason behind Jarod's reluctance to leave and go searching for his biological family again once things were concluded with the Centre. He remembered back just a few days ago when Jarod had admitted that she was confusing him. Obviously that situation had yet to resolve itself one way or the other.

"I'm wondering if we really want to come back here after we have the boy and Angelo," Sydney said, deciding to take the pressure away from Jarod and move to something a little more important. "There simply isn't enough room in this cabin for four adults and a small child. We need a bigger place to land."

"If I thought it were safe, I'd say we should take over Daddy's old townhouse," Miss Parker answered, putting the plate of toast in the middle of the table and carefully stepping over telephone cords to computers to take a seat at the table opposite Sydney. "It has more than enough room — and I seriously doubt that either Lyle or Raines has had much to do with the place."

"I don't know," Jarod shook his head, grateful for something more pertinent to think about. "It's awfully close to the Centre — if anybody's been keeping an eye on the place…"

"We can keep our heads down and the shades pulled, can't we?" she persisted.

"Besides," Sydney reassured him, "it will just be for a few hours, right? Your FBI friend says that the raid on the Centre itself is slated to start at five-thirty. We'd only have to stay hidden for a couple of hours at most."

"I'd really rather not be anywhere near Blue Cove when things start to fall in," Jarod stated stubbornly. "Call me paranoid, but the LAST thing I want to have to deal with is a behind-the-times sweeper who hasn't gotten the message that the Centre isn't cutting him a paycheck anymore."

"But I don't want to have to drive for hours again just to get to a safe haven," Miss Parker complained mildly. "I don't know about either of you, but if I don't see the inside of a moving vehicle for at LEAST a week or more…"

"What about heading back to Dover and getting a hotel suite once we pick up the others?" Sydney asked around his last bite of toast. "It's close enough that we don't have to drive forever, and far enough away from Blue Cove that we ought to be able to stay under anybody's radar until it's too late."

Jarod pointed at his mentor and gazed approvingly at Miss Parker. "I like the way he thinks."

"Dover wouldn't be bad," she agreed with a thoughtful nod.

"As a matter of fact, we could take the time to find a decently sized place to land in Dover on our way through — since we aren't supposed to rendezvous anywhere until mid-afternoon," Sydney continued. "Once we have Angelo and the boy, we just retrace our steps and dig in for the rest of the evening and wait for the news to hit."

"I'm all for that," Miss Parker's nod grew a little more enthusiastic.

"Then let's finish breakfast and get back on the road," Jarod urged, sipping cautiously at his hot coffee.

"I'll just be glad when this is over," Sydney mumbled into his coffee cup.

"I think we all will," Jarod agreed after exchanging a glance with Miss Parker. "It's long past time this was all over, for everyone concerned."

"We need to go shopping," she announced suddenly.

"What in hell for?" Jarod returned. "We've got all the food we need…"

"We'll need a child's car seat for the baby," she told him firmly. "After everything we're going through to get that boy out of there safely, I'm not taking any chances with him in the car."

"You should have thought of that…"

"We have the time, Jarod," she frowned. "Three o'clock isn't for another seven hours. What's the big problem?"

The dark chocolate eyes bored into hers and then dropped away as he began to busy himself with shutting down the laptop again. "I guess I'm just getting anxious," he admitted. "Sorry about that." He tipped his hand over to look at his watch. "We won't just sit around the room until it's time to drive to Blue Cove – we'll take off about an hour or so earlier and hit one of the bigger department stores in Dover after we find our hotel suite. That should give us plenty of time to get everything we need."

"OK," she backed away from her pique. "And don't worry about the case of nerves. We're all on edge, wondering if this is going to go down properly or not. We just need to remember to be smart and not start bickering."

"For my part, I'm just hoping that Raines doesn't have anything done to the Sanchez boy between when the FBI crashes through the front doors and when they can get to him," Sydney worried as he moved to one of the marginally comfortable easy chairs and took a seat. "The Centre is just too good, too efficient, at disappearing a person – and a kidnapped child would be one of the first people I'd want to disappear if I were Raines." He gazed up at Jarod. "How will we know if the raid was successful, anyway? They probably won't put anything on the news…"

"I'll email Bailey after we get back from Blue Cove this evening, Sydney," Jarod promised, "and I'll ask him straight out. How's that?"

Sydney sighed and nodded, then rose to rinse his coffee cup in the sink. "Are we ready to go?"

Jarod slipped the computer back into its black canvas case and dropped his cell phone into his breast pocket. "Ready when you are," he announced, then drained the rest of his coffee and rose to rinse his cup as well. "Looks like you'll have dishes to do the next time you come back here, Sydney," he commented, looking at the cups in the sink.

"Maybe by then I can come back and actually enjoy being here," Sydney replied, looking around the cabin that he and his twin brother had built together and then used from time to time over the years — the cabin where Jacob had finally found his rest. "I've always loved this place."

"We'll be back, Syd," Miss Parker promised. "And when we do come, you'll have a little boy to teach how to fish."

Sydney gazed at her fondly and nodded, and then straightened his shoulders with a deep breath. "Let's get this over with," he pronounced with a determined voice.

"Lead on, MacDuff," Miss Parker gestured toward the door.

oOoOo

Jarod slowed the black SUV and then aimed it at a virtually invisible set of indentations leading from the paved lane that ran past the front gates of the Centre. The SUV bounced carefully into the brush until it came to a halt on the edge of a small meadow, in the center of which was a round cement tube-like structure protruding from the grass that had a sloped metal roof construct on top of it.

"And THIS is how you've gotten in and out of the Centre?" Miss Parker asked, staring at the non-descript cement and metal structure with some surprise. "You're right – this doesn't appear on any of the security schematics that I've ever studied. I'd have stationed a sweeper in the area and nailed your ass long since if I'd have known."

"I guess we'll just have to be grateful for the oversight," Jarod replied, turning off the ignition and twisting in his seat so he could look at both his companions. "Parker, I'm thinking that you and Angelo will sit in the back with the baby – you two are the people that he'll know the best. Sydney can sit up here with me."

"I just wish there were some way to make sure that the little Sanchez boy is safe and will be found by the police," Sydney continued to worry. "This entire process got started because I felt it necessary to get that boy back home where he belongs – I'd hate to think that I'm the reason the boy ends up dead or missing…"

"Sydney, this plan is about as foolproof as we can make it," Jarod promised. "If Raines views this kid as valuable as he probably does, he's not going to just kill him at the first sign of trouble. He'll try to spirit him out of the complex, yes – but not murder him."

"And if Raines succeeds in sneaking him out of the Centre?"

"He won't," Jarod insisted. "He can't. When I contacted Bailey with the VCD of the boy, I included a computer file that contained architectural blueprints of the complex itself, with all entrances and exits marked – excluding this one, of course. We have to trust that the FBI knows what they're doing when they raid the place – because it is their responsibility to find the boy and get him back where he belongs."

"What if there's another exit like this one — one that just kind of fell off the charts — and Raines knows about it?"

"We've planned for all the contingencies we can, Sydney," Jarod soothed. "And I'm willing to bet you good money that if Raines doesn't know about this exit, he probably doesn't know about any others not in the charts. The FBI won't let him slip through their fingers — organized business getting away with the business of kidnapping children wouldn't sit well with law enforcement."

Sydney grumbled, "I'm just feeling the pressure of the responsibility of setting this entire circus in motion and wishing I could do something personally to make sure things go down the way we want them to."

"I can appreciate that…"

"What time is it?" Miss Parker demanded.

Jarod turned the key in the ignition to turn on the clock-radio on the dashboard. "Two-forty-five," he answered. "We have about ten minutes left to wait."

"It's the waiting that's going to drive me NUTS!" Miss Parker exploded softly and then ran her fingers through her blonde hair before leaning her elbow into the car door and her forehead into the palm of her hand. "I'm like Sydney – I want to be out there DOING something. Sitting here and waiting for others to come to me is for the birds."

"You've been in the driver's seat for too long," Jarod commented quietly, then raised his hand defensively. "No, honestly. I'm not trying to piss you off, Parker, just telling you what I see. You were the brains and the mover behind the search for me for so many years that the idea of sitting back and letting others do the work or bring things TO you doesn't sit well anymore."

"Well, you've been a mover and a doer for the past five years," she shot back. "Just how the hell are you keeping your own sanity sitting there on your thumb?"

"I've had lots of practice at having to sit and wait, Parker," he answered in a much more gentle tone. "And with all of the Pretends I've done, there are certain developments that I had to be patient and have those I was working with and for do for themselves before I could respond to the situation and continue to nudge things along. I'm used to playing the waiting game, and used to trusting that others will play their necessary parts so that I can play mine."

"Is that roof going to allow for enough room for Angelo to slip through?" Sydney asked, trying to look closer at the structure.

"The whole top end is on a hinge," Jarod answered, pointing, "although technically he should be able to slip through without too much difficulty. I broke the hasp that held the top down the first time I used it to get back in, though, so we can tip the top off and help him hand the boy out the minute we know he's there."

"We should get over there then," Miss Parker stated and unlatched her car door. "I can't just sit here…"

"And what are you going to do over there, Parker, pace back and forth?" Jarod snapped.

"At least I'd be DOING something," she defended herself haughtily.

"Enough, you two," Sydney shook his head. "This isn't helping – and didn't you promise not to bicker?" Miss Parker ran her hands through her hair again in frustration and then pulled the car door closed again while Jarod leaned back against the headrest of his seat and let go a long, deep breath. "You both are going to have to figure a way around your love of arguing around that little boy," he cautioned. "After all, the four of us adults are going to be his first contact with a family unit, with the two of you naturally taking the roles of parents."

Jarod turned and stared at his mentor in surprise – that was a part of this that he truly HADN'T thought through. He turned and looked at Miss Parker and saw that she had been equally startled by the thought. "But I don't know how to be a…"

"Neither do I, Pez-for-brains," Miss Parker replied in a voice that disarmed what was normally a mild dig. "I don't think we have much choice in the matter, however."

"Geez!"

"Jarod…" Sydney caught at his former student's shoulder and shook it suddenly. "Look!" he ordered, pointing.

A hand was snaking out from under the metal roof looking for a hasp.

"That's our cue," Miss Parker exclaimed and leapt from the SUV. With Jarod and Sydney close on her heels, she trotted across the short distance and then worked to lift the pyramid-like metal from the cement tube.

"Here." Sydney came up behind her and added his strength to hers and soon had the metal lid tipping to the side.

"Angelo," Jarod called, "give me the boy."

"Nooooo…" a frightened little voice cried out suddenly, and Jarod found himself dealing with a squirming armful.

"Give him here!" Miss Parker was next to him almost immediately, her hands reaching out for her little brother. "Hey there, little man!" she cooed at him the moment the Pretender had shifted the child's weight into her arms. "You remember me, don't you?"

Frightened grey eyes so much like her own stared into her face for a very long moment, and then: "Sissy?"

Miss Parker felt her heart melt at the sound of that funny nickname that he'd bestowed on her as he'd first learned how to speak. "That's right, little man," she reassured him and then closed her eyes in sheer pleasure as the tiny arms wrapped themselves around her neck and clung tightly.

"Come on, Angelo," Jarod urged and put his hand out to the spry little man still clinging to the side of the cement tunnel. But instead of grabbing a hand, he ended up with a handful of strapping attached to a fairly heavy bundle. "What's this?" he asked of the man still inside the tunnel as he pulled the canvas backpack out of the tunnel and set it on the ground next to him.

"You need," Angelo chirped up at him. "Daughter needs too."

"We need you to come out now, Angelo," Sydney called to him gently. "It's time to leave now."

"Angelo knows," the odd little man nodded and then thrust a hand up so that Jarod could help pull him out of the Centre at long last. Once his feet were on the grass, Jarod pulled his old friend into a tight hug of welcome. Angelo contentedly laid his head on his friend's shoulder. "Good to see you," he sighed. He then pushed himself away and reached for Sydney. "Sydney not angry now."

"I'm better, I promise," Sydney enfolded the empath to him, "and I'll be better still when we're safely away from this place."

Angelo nodded enthusiastically. "Raines surprised soon," he chortled as if viewing future events as already concluded, then gazed thoughtfully at the cement passage through which he and the little boy had just traveled. "Centre finished."

"I certainly hope so," Jarod bent and brought the heavy backpack strap up over his shoulder. "Let's get the hell out of here, people," he gestured anxiously at the waiting SUV. "The further we can get away from here before the troops land, the better, don't you think?"

"Are you ready to go for a ride?" Miss Parker asked the child in her arms as she carried him across the grass to the car.

"Me go ride?" the little boy asked in return, his eyes bright at the prospect. "Really?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded at him. "We even have a special seat just for you."

Jarod's face grew soft and thoughtful as he listened to the gentle chatter between Miss Parker and her much younger brother. This was a side of her that he'd never seen before — a side that was even more intriguing than the one with which he was most familiar. A snicker drew his eyes from her back to look over at Angelo standing next to Sydney with a very bright and knowing expression on his face. "Don't say it," he warned his friend and hefted the heavy backpack a little more securely onto his shoulder. "Don't say it."

"Come on, Angelo," Sydney urged with a hand to the empath's shoulder to guide him along. "We need to go now."

Angelo paused for a moment and turned to stare at the cement vent. Then he turned and looked up into Sydney's face with a trusting expression. "Angelo stay with Sydney now," and slipped his hand into the psychiatrist's.

With a jolt, Sydney realized that the third child that heaven had placed into his keeping had returned to him now too. He let his fingers tighten around the child-like man's and walked resolutely toward the SUV.

oOoOo

Surprisingly, there actually was a report on the ten o'clock television news program about the FBI having received a tip regarding the whereabouts of a kidnapped child, and the raid on the Delaware research firm known as The Centre early that evening. Television news crews had been present when the little boy had been carried out the front door of the building — a door that had more men in uniforms and jackets with 'FBI' printed on the back than the dark suits of sweepers. The cameras had also captured the moment when William Raines had been led from the building with a jacket draped over his head to keep his face from being seen — the only definitive sign that this was indeed Raines being the oxygen tank that the agent who had hold of Raines' right elbow was dragging along behind. The report then switched back to the announcer in the studio, with a picture of Lyle's face behind her with the words "still being sought" over it.

Miss Parker had gasped the moment that the story began, and once it was concluded and the news program had moved to the next story, she slipped into the bedroom to be with her sleeping little brother. She stared down at the boy with the oddest sense of emptiness within. There was nothing to go back to any longer for her — nothing remained in Blue Cove but a summerhouse filled with memories of her mother and her own belongings, a summerhouse that no doubt Raines had ordered tossed for clues in much the way the cabin at White Cloud had been trashed. All that truly mattered to her were the people gathered in this hotel suite and those warned to stay away. It was a sobering and humbling thought — one that had driven her into the bedroom where she pulled on the sweats that she had yet to return to Jarod and into bed next to a tiny boy who was her only living relative.

Angelo watched the news broadcast with a very neutral expression on his face until the cameras showed Raines. At that point, the empath got up from his spot on the floor and walked over to where Sydney was sitting on the couch, and then seated himself on the floor again with his shoulder leaning into the older man's knee.

Sydney exchanged satisfied glances with Jarod and then looked down as Angelo leaned into his leg. He landed a gentle hand on the top of the empath's head and straightened at the jumbled toss of auburn curls. He too felt the sudden release — the relief of seeing that small boy who had no business being locked in an underground prison being carried gently back into the light of day. He felt the emptiness as well — there was now a vacuum where the Centre had sat at the back of his mind like a malignant observer, robbing him of joy and life. Absently he toyed with Angelo's curls while Miss Parker silently retired behind the bedroom door, wondering if he dared return to his house on Washington Avenue — wondering if it had been left as much of a shambles as his fishing cabin had been. If nothing else, there were a few other things he wouldn't mind retrieving. But from then on, he would be living his life with others at his side — the people in this hotel room with him — and they'd need a larger residence to hold them all.

Jarod could feel the warmth of that satisfied glance he'd shared with Sydney to the bottom of his soul, and he leaned back against the cushion of the couch to relax. It was finally over — the Centre had been taken down and would no longer be pursuing him. He was free, Miss Parker was free, Sydney and Angelo were free — all of them free to take up their lives and walk away without fear of reprisal or censure. Free…

He glanced at the closed door behind which Miss Parker had fled. Now he was free to see just exactly what it was that held him so tightly bonded to that sharp-tongued and prickly beauty, just what it was about her that prevented him from ever truly walking away. He would have to choose his time carefully — there was now a child that would be looking up to her, to the both of them, for love and guidance. There was also an old friend to care for and a father figure to finish nursing back to health.

THIS was family. This was HIS family. These were people he'd tried to live without, only to come to the realization that he couldn't.

And now they were all free.

"I think I'm going to go for a walk," he told Sydney in a hushed voice, rising. "I need some air — I have to think."

"Don't go too far," Sydney cautioned, a hand at Angelo's shoulder preventing the other younger man from rising too. "I think we need to stay close — for tonight, at least."

"I won't," Jarod assured him, then reached for his leather jacket. "I'll be back after a while." He opened the door to the suite and pulled it closed carefully behind him and then leaned on the railing right in front of him.

Below, the flow of traffic had thinned at the intersection so that only an occasional vehicle drove past. The night breeze was brisk and chilly, and it made the Pretender pull his jacket more tightly closed as he walked down the balcony toward the alcove at the end.

He had a choice now — to plunge headfirst into searching for his parents and sister, or dedicate himself to creating a complete family unit with the people who had been a part of his life for good or ill for the better part of that life. He could search for the mother he'd only dreamed about for years, or he could search for the loving woman he knew was hidden within the strong defenses of a girl he'd grown up knowing. He could search for the father he'd met only briefly, or be a son to the man who had raised him and looked after him for decades. He could search for his siblings — a sister and a clone that would be more like a younger brother — or try to help one of his oldest friends adjust to life outside an institutional setting.

Or he could do both, and risk having both sides of his life want to monopolize him.

He wanted both — to have his parents with him again, but not to lose the close bonds with Sydney and Miss Parker that supported and nourished him now. But in thinking through his options, it quickly became clear that this was where he belonged. He would try to find the others — to bring them in — but he would not, could not, leave. That realization brought with it a completely new and uncomfortable feeling that tossed freedom and obligation into a blender and mixed it until it was impossible to distinguish one from the other. He leaned against the building and slid until he was sitting on the concrete.

Inside the suite, Miss Parker heard the sound of the door opening and closing from where she lay in the bed, and it was as if someone had doused her with ice water. The child in her arms might be her only living blood relative — but the men she'd left in the living room were just as important to her in their own ways, one man in particular. She threw back the covers and sprang to her feet, and then remembered and turned to make sure the little boy remained safely tucked in before she went back into the common room. She gazed at Sydney and Angelo, and then looked around for Jarod. "Where did he go?" she asked with a slight tone of panic. "He didn't just…"

"No," Sydney soothed. "He said he just needed some air so he could think."

"Daughter go, talk to Friend," Angelo smiled up at her innocently. "It's time now."

Sydney eyed the sweats and bare feet with obvious trepidation, and then rose. "If you're going to insist on going outside, at least put this on," he insisted, draping his suit jacket over her shoulders. "But don't stay out too long, Parker — you don't need to give yourself a chill."

She stretched and kissed his cheek. "I'll be good, Daddy," she quipped softly and then had followed Jarod out the door.

He had moved to the end of the balcony, down near the alcove that held beverage vending machines and the ice machine. Seated on the cold concrete balcony, he sat with his back pressed against the siding of the building, hands draped limply over knees, staring out at the darkness. Miss Parker walked down the balcony toward him quietly, not trying to hide or surprise him but not going out of her way to disrupt his reverie. She stood next to him for a long moment, looking down into his tired and thoughtful visage, then seated herself Indian-style next to him, facing him.

"What?" He sounded as if he had just noticed her presence. She smiled at the much kinder version of her own way of answering phone calls all these years. It was abrupt — even rude. She'd have to work on that. There was no way she was going to teach her little brother to be that abrasive.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked in return, her question gentle and simple.

"The future," he answered cryptically, then folded his hands together between his propped-up knees.

"Why out here?"

He glanced at her briefly and then stared back out into the night. "I dunno," he answered eventually. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

She watched him for a long moment. "You're thinking of leaving."

"No," he shook his head, "I'm not. And that's what's so confusing."

"I thought you'd be happy to be free to look for your parents without having to worry about the Centre breathing down your neck anymore," she stated, gathering the edges of Sydney's jacket a little closer about her against the nighttime breeze that lifted her hair away from her face.

"I thought I would too," he admitted softly. "And I suppose I am in a way."

"But…" she urged gently.

"It's the strangest feeling," he answered eventually, "to know that I could do it if I really wanted to, and yet NOT want to do it — at least, not…" He stammered to a stop, not exactly sure what it was that was keeping him from charging off. That wasn't right, he chided himself, he did too know what was holding him here. "I can't walk away from this… from US…"

"Sydney would understand," she soothed, blinking at the raw honesty he was showing.

"I know he would," Jarod replied. "But he's only part of what I'd be walking away from."

"You wouldn't have to explain anything to Angelo…" she added, only to be pinned by his dark eyes glittering in the dim light of the beverage alcove.

"You know what I'm talking about," he said with quiet vehemence. "You know which US I'm referring to."

"Is there an US, Jarod?" she asked, leaning her head to her right against the wall of the building. "Or is that something else that the Centre dreamed up and instilled in us to satisfy its own agenda?"

"They may have manufactured our meeting and manipulated some of the dynamics of our relationship in recent years, but NOBODY tells me who I…" He fell silent, astonished at the depth and strength of the emotion that had suddenly swelled and threatened exposure. Miss Parker blinked and straightened again, and for the first time reached out a hand to him — only to have him turn abruptly away from the hand. "Don't — not if you don't mean it." The dark eyes glittered in the pale face.

"If I don't mean what?" This was beginning to remind her of those first, awkward movements that she and Thomas had made toward each other — moments when a desire to be more open battled with the need to protect vulnerability. "What is it that nobody can tell you, Jarod?"

"US, Parker." He shook his head in frustration. "Am I the only one of us that feels the connection?"

"No," she stated gently. "If you were, do you honestly think I'd be out here in the cold with you?" She dropped the hand into her lap to join its mate. "But we've both been around the block with the Centre and it's playing God far too often. I've had every last one of the givens of my life turned upside-down, inside-out and backwards — from finding out my mother's suicide was a ploy to finding out my father wasn't really my father. Tell me — am I wrong to question the originality of what we think we're feeling, considering all that?"

He looked at her and his trained mind could easily follow the reasoning for her fears. "No," he answered more carefully. "But that's just it — they have done their best to make us enemies, and yet here we are, sitting outside freezing our asses off trying to figure out WHY we're not the enemies the Centre put so much time and money into making us. Could it be that while we could be lied to and manipulated into believing certain things about each other, nobody could ever really tell us how to FEEL about the other?"

"Jarod…"

Now it was his turn to put out a hand and cup it gently against her face. "How can we ever know whether there's an US or not if we never try, Parker?"

Her face trembled beneath his touch. "I… don't think I could take it… if you ended up walking away after all," she said in a whisper, her grey eyes full of the fear of being abandoned that had ruled her life for so long. "I don't think I'd survive."

"That's just it, Parker. All these years I've been running, and never — not once — have I ever truly run away, not from you. I've run from THEM, yes; but never you. Every time you gave me half a chance, I came closer and tried to take you with me." His thumb began to stroke her cheek.

"Tell me what you want." The demand was whispered.

"You," was the reply, simple and honest. "You're all I've ever really wanted."

"What about your family?" she asked, taken aback by his statement.

He shook his head. "They are my past — they are where I come from — but I've always seen you as my future. My past will always be a part of me; I can't lose that. But you…" The other hand came up and framed the other side of her face. "I want an US, Parker — whether it comes about because the Centre dabbled in our lives or not, I want to try." He gazed into her eyes soulfully. "I want you. I want US. I want the family that I have with you by my side."

"I'm afraid you'll find your parents and change your mind. And then I'd be alone." There. She'd said it to him directly. It was out.

"The only way I can take that fear away is by proving it won't happen," he reasoned. "And I can't do that if we don't try." He searched her face. "Please, Parker, don't let your fear of what might happen steal a chance for happiness for us both." He shifted up onto his knees and turned to face her completely, all without dropping either hand from her cheeks. Very slowly and carefully he bent and brushed her lips with his. "Let me in, Parker, let me love you. Please."

"You're asking for more than just an armistice after all, then," she stated, looking deep into his eyes for any sign that he was holding back or merely playing with her affections and not finding anything except a warm caring that beckoned for her to relax her wariness at last.

"You're right," he nodded, his gaze not shifting from hers at all. "I want it all."

"And what do I get in return?"

He slowly began to smile. "Give me the answer I want, and I'll show you."

Slowly her hand came up and, after pausing in case he was going to stop her or shift out of reach again, landed soft and warm against his cheek. It was all he needed to lower his lips to hers again; and then, as the kiss deepened, wrap his arms around her and pull her as close to him as he could at long last. "I love you," he whispered into the hair at the top of her head when they finally broke apart, "I always have, and I always will."

She sheltered against his broad chest, nestled in strong arms that held her tightly and kept the chilled nighttime breeze from trying to sneak down her sweatshirt collar. "I suppose we can try and see if we can put an US together," she agreed finally, adding, "especially since I don't seem to have any other pressing business at the mo…"

He lowered his lips to hers again. There had been enough talk.

oOoOo

With Angelo in the bedroom with the little Parker boy, snoring softly, Sydney stretched his frame out on the couch and reached for the television remote to see if there was any other news station carrying the story. Miss Parker and Jarod had been outside for a long time, and while he knew the night was getting cold, he had no intention of interrupting their time together. This moment had been a long time in coming for them — and if Angelo's reactions to whatever emotions he could read from a distance were any indication, problems between those two were finally being resolved.

On the side table, the open and running laptop chirped and announced an arriving email just as the suite door opened and Jarod escorted Miss Parker back into the warmth. Sydney gave a smile at the very obvious closeness that now seemed to bind two of the people he loved most in the world together in a new way. "Email, Jarod," he stated, choosing not to comment at this time. Sometimes things of this nature needed time to grow and strengthen before it had to bear the weight of comment.

Jarod's fingers slipped from Miss Parker's and he stepped over to the laptop and pressed a few keys. "It's Bailey," he announced to the others in the room. "They're starting to sift through the information regarding the Pretender Project, and he wants me to come in and give a statement."

"They'll arrest you," Miss Parker worried. "You can't…"

"I think when they finish reading, they'll have more important things on their minds," he shook his head. "But just in case, I'll tell him that I'll get back in touch with him and work out a deal after a while — that I have a few things I need to do first now that the Centre is out of commission." His eyes rested on her warmly again. "Very important things."

"They found Lyle," Sydney announced from his spot on the couch. "And they're reopening some of the murder cases in which he had once been a suspect. Evidently they found some very incriminating evidence linking him to at least one murder when they searched his apartment. The news report wasn't very specific, but…" His eyes touched Miss Parker's — and it was plain that she remembered the contents of that tiny, hidden room as well as he did.

"It's really over then," she sighed. "Even Lyle."

"And did you two settle whatever it was you had brewing between you?" Sydney asked, his curiosity winning over his discretion, and yet keeping the question superficial enough that they could answer without being specific.

"I think so," Miss Parker removed the jacked from her shoulders and draped it over an unoccupied chair.

"Good." The old psychiatrist turned back to watch the television screen. "Get some rest, both of you — we'll have to decide where we're going tomorrow, and that will take fresh minds. Angelo went in to be with the boy when he woke up and was frightened, and now the two of them are fast asleep — so it looks like you two have the extra bedroom to yourselves. I'll camp on the couch here for the night."

Jarod and Miss Parker exchanged very startled looks at the overt approval of their nascent relationship from the one man whose opinion mattered most to them right now. "A…are you sure?" Miss Parker managed at last.

"I'm not blind, Parker," Sydney replied, turning his head to smile at her. "And there's a time to urge restraint, and a time to stand back and let things that were always meant to be take place."

"I love you, Syd," she exclaimed and bent over him to drop a fond kiss onto his cheek.

"Good night, then, Sydney," Jarod said and reached out his hand for hers as she straightened, and together they walked through the doorway and pulled the door closed behind them.

Sydney smiled and then chuckled softly to himself, and then clicked the television off and kicked the shoes from his feet before rising to turn off lights. He couldn't remember being happier in a very long time.


	11. Starting Fresh

Chapter 11 – Starting Fresh

Jarod roused as something tickled at his nose, and he slowly blinked his eyes open into darkness as he brought his hand up to brush away the nuisance and found himself with fingers tangling in soft hair. Finally the reality of where he was, with whom he was and their circumstances invaded his senses, and he smoothed the hair away from his nose and then dropped his hand back to where it had been laying at Miss Parker's waist. He took and carefully expelled a deep breath and closed his eyes again, fully aware that there would be no way for him to get back to sleep for a while, if at all for the rest of the night.

She had rolled toward him in her sleep and was now lying on his arm and nestled into his shoulder with an arm of her own draped in casual intimacy across his belly. The length of her body was pressed against his for warmth beneath the blanket and bedspread, and their feet were tangled together. He was surprised at the level of intimacy that their bodies were evidently willing to adopt while sleeping when their waking selves had decided together after a lengthy discussion that physical intimacy would only complicate matters at this stage. He wasn't unhappy with the development at all, however – to have a sleeping beauty in his arms wasn't the kind of gift from Fate to sneeze at.

What seemed like more of a miracle was that she was here, now – in his life and willing to see just where a relationship might lead them. He was certain that fully half of the reason she'd been reluctant to let their relationship deepen into physical intimacy that night was that she still wasn't fully trusting in him not to up and leave her somewhere down the line. Her fears were deep-seated and supported by painful experience – it would be a long time before he'd know he'd begun to wear away at them. So much of what she was attempting now – deepening her relationship with Sydney and taking on the responsibility for her baby brother – was going against the grain of all her upbringing and training. To ask her to trust him enough to become lovers on top of all that seemed like a step too far.

And yet…

He used the arm that she was half laying on to surround her shoulders and pull her just a little bit more into his embrace. He didn't care if the Centre had manipulated him emotionally or physically to respond to her – what had gone on before was not longer important. The only thing that mattered was that he was sure that he loved her — and loving her, he was willing to wait for her. This was his future, laying warm and soft in his arms and breathing softly against him – trusting him in her sleep in a way that she as yet couldn't bring herself to do while awake.

Whatever it would take, he was going to do to move that sleeping trust into their waking reality. That she was with him now was a sign of her affection – and of her willingness to give their relationship a decent try. He nuzzled the top of her head, indulging himself with that tiny intimacy that she'd never know happened. He wanted more – much more – but he was willing to wait until the offer of intimacy came to him willingly from her. He would not take more than she was prepared to offer.

However, he'd have to have a long talk with Sydney – the older man surely would know a few things about how to win a woman's heart. After all, he and Michelle had been on the verge of marriage when the Centre had stepped into their relationship and torn them apart. Perhaps there was a way of approaching her that would gain her trust more quickly than just steady constancy would do. And if not that, then it was certain that the older psychiatrist knew plenty about the patience needed to wait for her to realize that he WASN'T going anywhere without her. Jarod knew that patience had never been a long suit with him, where Sydney seemed to positively embody the virtue at times — especially where it came to Miss Parker.

She stirred in his arms, snuggling closer and tightening her hold across his waist, and he used his free hand to tuck the covers in around her just a little better. What a gift this night was! She was safe, warm, free, and sleeping restfully — for that matter, so had he been before her hair had invaded his nose and roused him. No nightmares had molested either of them — and he knew for a fact that was a first. Her sleep was generally not a whole lot more restful than his, and from years of watching from a distance or breaking into her house to watch over her as she slept, he knew her nightmares could wreak vicious havoc with her emotions.

There had been so many times that he'd come close to taking her into his arms to comfort her in the night — especially when she'd lain back into her pillow after awakening with a hair-raising shriek from some ungodly dream and then wept as if her heart were torn asunder. How hard it had been to hold back, to remain hidden in the shadows until she had cried herself to sleep again — and what a supreme pleasure it was to hold her now and know that in his arms, she could sleep the way she was supposed to.

He dropped a very gentle kiss onto her forehead and relaxed back into his pillow with a contented sigh, and without even realizing it, soon was drifting back into a restful sleep of his own.

oOoOo

Miss Parker roused at the touch of lips to her forehead. It took a very long moment for her to wake up enough to remember where she was and with whom she was and under what circumstances. When she did, she laid her head back down on Jarod's chest with a small, silent sigh and allowed herself to enjoy the sensation of being held tenderly. It had been such a long time since anyone had held her like this…

They had talked for a long time once she had finally given in to her heart's urging her to let him into her life, talking about how hard it had been to find someone with whom they could be themselves, someone who was willing to wade through the attitude and find the secret soul that attitude was designed to defend. With him, it had been a girl named Zoë — fun to be with and full of joie de vivre despite her dire medical condition. With her, it had been Thomas — a gentle soul with a healer's heart. Both romances had been doomed — Zoë's condition had deteriorated suddenly almost a year ago, and she had succumbed to her cancer after a long and lingering debilitation. Jarod had been at her funeral six months earlier. Thomas had been murdered by the Centre and buried over three years ago. Since then, neither of them had even been looking.

Then again, neither of them really needed to go very far.

Their relationship had been sitting on the fringes of their worlds for decades, begun with two children's hands almost touching through the Plexiglas, sealed with a tentative kiss, and then tempered through years of mind games and mutual grief. He had always been there for her during her darkest hours — at least, once she had returned back to the Centre proper and begun to search for him. Before that, he'd been that gentle memory of a sweet boy that she'd known in the Centre — a kind young man so different from her worldly suitors.

It really wasn't all that surprising that they would end up like this: wrapped in each other's arms in bed, sharing a sleeping closeness that neither could completely accept into their waking worlds yet. She knew he was far more ready for whatever could develop between them than she was — SHE was the one with the abandonment issues, after all. And they had talked about that. Surprisingly, he said he was willing to prove to her that he wasn't just going to vanish from her life again the way all the others she'd cared for had over the years — and that while he did want an intimate relationship with her, he was willing to wait until she was comfortable making herself that much more vulnerable to him.

He did love her. The thought was as warm and as comfortable as was his arm around her holding her close. There was no other explanation. Where another would have pushed once they both were in bed and all other impediments had been removed, he had simply given her a gentle kiss and rolled onto his back, letting her find her own comfort zone. For the briefest of moments, she had been tempted to toss aside all of her doubts and fears and just jump into deep waters, damn the consequences and the huge risk she'd be taking — and then his easy acceptance of the boundaries she'd set for him soaked in. He wasn't pressuring her for sex, he seemed contented just to be with her. They could sleep together without having their physical relationship venture into deeper, more dangerous areas as yet. This nighttime embrace, while devoid of obvious passion, nonetheless held an element of intimacy that was breathtakingly deep in its mutual familiarity and accommodation.

This was a much more emotionally mature Jarod than she was used to dealing with. This wasn't the imp that called her on the telephone at the most ungodly hour of the evening just to taunt her, nor was it the clever will 'o' the wisp that perpetually danced outside the reach of everyone looking desperately for him. This was a man who knew exactly what he wanted — her — and was willing to wait for her to come to him of her own free will. And in the meantime, he would hold her and make her feel safe and loved — not because doing so would eventually win him what he wanted, although that was most likely true — but because he could, and because he wanted to.

She needed to talk to Sydney. He was the only one she knew she could trust with her burgeoning feelings to give her the best advice he knew how. It was different for a man, she knew that, but perhaps in talking to him, she could untangle her own feelings. There was so much changing in her life right now — a little boy she barely knew was fast asleep in the next room, along with a strange little man that she was well aware she should have known far better than she did in reality. And then there was Sydney himself, a man for whom she'd always had deep feelings but never been able to admit them to herself much less him. Their burgeoning father-daughter bond had a long way to go to become the kind of strength she knew she could depend on no matter what, but she was ready to lean on it a little in the meanwhile. They had both failed each other so often in the past — and it was so important that neither fail the other now.

She really didn't need the confusion and pressure of a budding sexual affair adding to the emotional turmoil in her life at the moment. But considering the developments that had occurred that night, there would come a time when avoiding such a thing, or refusing to make any kind of decision regarding that side of her relationship with Jarod, would become almost as much of an impediment as the affair would itself. At that point, she would have to decide just how much she was willing to trust him — or if she could face the thought of life without him at her side or in her bed.

Jarod gave a deep breath and began to snore very lightly, and Miss Parker smiled into the darkness. This WAS a first — Jarod rarely slept for any length of time at all without the horror of a nightmare breaking through and destroying any hope of real rest. And yet here he was, fast asleep and apparently getting the kind of restful sleep that he'd needed and craved for years. For that matter, she hadn't had a nightmare herself yet.

Perversely, she turned her head and dropped a very quiet kiss onto the warm skin of his chest. Maybe it was because they were together for a change — maybe it was that the nightmares that knew they both were vulnerable when alone just didn't quite dare challenge them when they were together. She closed her eyes and decided that the thought that they were stronger together than apart wasn't all that unappealing. She liked having his arms around her, enjoyed stretching out along his long and lean frame. It would be interesting having those delightfully delicious-looking brown eyes of his be the first thing she saw when the morning came.

And with that, she gave a deep sigh and floated off into a light doze that then quickly deepened into restful sleep again.

oOoOo

It was a small sound that slowly worked its way into Sydney's dream and finally brought him awake. It wasn't a sound he was used to hearing, and finally he lifted his head from the pillow he'd rested against the arm of the couch and looked around the room in the darkness. There! He heard it again — coming from the direction of one of the bedrooms. With a grunt he pushed himself to a sitting position and reached out a hand for the lamp that sat on an end table near the couch.

There was a frightened squeak as the light suddenly blinked on, and Sydney followed the sound until he saw the child standing in front of the closed bedroom door, shivering in just an undershirt and briefs and staring around him in obvious confusion. "What are you doing up at this hour?" Sydney asked, tempering his voice down to a calm and reassuring tone meant to soothe the child.

Wide grey eyes flew to the older man's face, and the boy seemed to shrink back a bit. "W…where's Sissy?" he demanded in a trembling voice.

"She's asleep," Sydney replied gently, "the way you should be."

The boy continued to look around him, obviously feeling quite lost. Finally his gaze settled on the older man again as the only person who was present to be questioned. The boy visibly steeled himself. "I'm firsty," he said in a very small voice, as if asking for water was to commit a major sin.

Sydney pushed himself to his feet and held out his hand as he walked closer. "Come on, then. Let's get you something to drink so you can get back to sleep."

The child tipped his head. "Mr. Raines never let me get any water," he stated in a solemn tone. "He said it was a bad habit to drink water affer bed."

Sydney halted a few feet away and merely extended his hand a little more. "I think you'll find that what Mr. Raines has said to you isn't very important anymore. Would you like me to help you get some water to drink?"

The head covered with dark curls nodded slowly, and then the little boy moved to put his hand very cautiously in Sydney's. "Fank you," the child intoned somberly.

"You're very welcome," Sydney responded, charmed by the excellent manners that the little boy was showing already. Whether they were there as the result of role modeling or coercion didn't really matter. He folded long fingers over the cold little hand and pulled the boy in the direction of the bathroom. Everything in there was a little out of the child's reach, so Sydney took a glass, put some of the water from the tap into it and then handed it down to the little boy. "How's this?"

The boy took the glass in both hands and proceeded to drain it. "Fank you," he repeated again. "'Nuff." He handed the glass back to the nice man who had been so completely willing to help him with this formerly forbidden treat and then watched as the glass was put back against the big mirror, and then the light switch was flicked off.

"Come on now," Sydney urged gently, putting his hand down again, "time to get back into bed where you can get warm again."

The little hand came into his a little more willingly, but the little boy was more reluctant to move in the direction of the bedroom. "Dark," he whimpered miserably. "Me scared."

Sydney looked back down into those wide grey eyes, so like another's of whom he was very fond, and knew that he didn't have it within him to force the child back into a darkened bedroom against his will. "Do you want to stay out here with me?" he asked instead.

"Leave the light on?" the child bargained in return.

"It's harder to sleep when there's a light on," Sydney told him in a reasoning tone.

The little boy shook his head. "When the light is on, no bad mans come," he replied cryptically. "Me sleep better, promise."

Sydney frowned. This little one's fears had an experiential basis arising from whatever had been his treatment at Raines' hand at the Centre, and the suggestion was disturbing to say the least. Then again, he very vaguely remembered a set of tests that had measured the different levels of response and reasoning ability Jarod would exhibit, depending on whether he had had a decent night's sleep or had been rousted abruptly out of bed in the middle of the night. Had Jarod also learned during those early days to fear sleeping in the dark? Would the depths of the damage he had caused or allowed to happen to a man he considered as a son never be known? "There won't be any more bad men coming for you anymore," he reassured the child, swallowing a sense of nausea.

The grey eyes clearly did not believe him for a moment. "Leave the light on? Please?" The child was almost begging.

"Let me turn it to a lower setting, then," Sydney agreed, reaching for the lamp and flicking the three-way light to the dimmest setting so quickly that the darkness between the highest and lowest setting was but a fraction of a second. "There. Will that be OK?"

The child nodded again. Sydney sat down on the couch with a sigh and felt the child climb onto the couch next to him, hesitate for a short moment, and then climb the rest of the way into his lap. "You a nice man," was the verdict.

"Thank YOU," Sydney responded, his arms closing almost automatically around the small child. "And you are a very polite and well-mannered young man who needs to try to go to sleep again." He felt the child relax against his chest a little, snuggling against the warmth.

"You know my Sissy?" was the next question.

Sydney's mouth twitched with amusement. Obviously the boy wasn't ready to throw in the towel quite yet. "Yes, I know your sister very well. I knew her when she was your age, did you know that?"

The dark head swung up and the grey eyes stared into his face in surprise. "Really?"

Sydney nodded seriously. "Really. We can talk all about this in the morning, when your sister can help tell the stories."

The little boy relaxed against him again, and then: "What me call you?"

"My name is Sydney," the older man replied quietly. "You can call me that."

"You my Sissy's friend?"

"Something like that," Sydney replied cryptically. "A very good friend."

"Can you be my friend too?"

The question was asked with so much pleading and obvious worry at being refused that Sydney's arms tightened and held the boy to him closer. "Of course I can," he promised in a low voice. "Go to sleep now, little one. I'll keep you safe to sleep tonight."

"G'nite, Sydney," the child mumbled, relaxing even more against the older man's chest and, in only a few moments, had relaxed completely in a deep sleep.

Sydney cradled the child to him, and then shifted so that he could pull the extra blanket that Miss Parker had brought out to him over his shoulders and around to cover the boy too. He sat very still, holding the slumbering child as if he were the most precious thing he'd ever handled, feeling the strangest emotion stealing over him.

This was one thing that he'd never been allowed – the one thing that he'd never allowed himself to even consider: to actively take on the role of protector and refuge for a small child, to give shelter and comfort to a frightened child so that it could sleep. The opportunity to do so for his own child had been stolen from him, and the very idea of doing so for Jarod had been rendered so foreign as to be unthinkable at the time. A tear slowly found its way from the corner of his eye and onto his cheek as he couldn't help wishing that he'd had the chance or taken the time to do this for Jarod all those years ago, when the Pretender had been a small and very frightened child in a new and terrifying place.

It was as if a light had been shone into an area he'd never known about or wanted to look before. The small details of what must have been a daily helping of terror and loneliness for Jarod suddenly became crystal clear, giving Sydney a better idea of just why Jarod had been less than forthcoming with forgiveness for so long. In some ways, what had most likely happened to his protégé had rivaled if not surpassed the horror of what Dr. Krieg and the Nazis had done to him so long ago. And he'd been a major part of that — his lack of compassionate response, which had probably been perceived as a rude rejection, had no doubt made things even more terrifying for the brutalized child Pretender.

Sydney bent his head down and gently kissed the top of the head of the child in his arms, and then cradled the youngster just that much closer. Despite everything that he now understood he'd done wrong over the years, Jarod had forgiven him — and now it seemed as if Fate or whatever Power watched over them all was giving him one last chance at redemption. Here was a chance for him to show that he'd learned from his past mistakes — that he was ready and willing to try to balance the scales in a small way by being there for this little one as he had never dared be for Jarod or Miss Parker. There was no way on Earth that he was going to allow himself to let this little one down. For once in his life, he knew what the right thing to do was and had every intention of doing nothing less than the best for that boy.

He was getting very sleepy, and he had no desire to sleep sitting up and then spend the greater part of the next day with a stiff neck — although he had even less desire to disturb the rest of the cherub on his lap. Very carefully he removed the blanket from about them both and shifted the lad onto the couch until he was lying against the pillow, then swung his feet back up onto the couch and reclined behind the boy. He drew the blanket up over his shoulder and draped it carefully over his body, making sure that it covered and was tucked in around the child as well, and then pulled the boy in close to his chest again.

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes against the light of the lamp near his head. The boy shifted in his sleep, turning over so that he could hang onto Sydney's shirt in his sleep. Touched, Sydney swept his hand very softly down the child's head and then settled into his pillow again, and within minutes was once more asleep.

oOoOo

Jarod stirred and then blinked his eyes open as the light from the sunrise began to lighten the room around him. He yawned widely and then smiled to himself, amazed that he had actually managed to fall back asleep and sleep soundly until nearly dawn – that was a record for him. He withdrew his hand from around Miss Parker's waist and rolled onto his back away from her, and then rolled further and threw his feet off the edge of the bed. He carefully covered her with the blankets again when he heard her whimper a complaint against the loss of warmth she suffered when she no longer had him curled around her back, and then he rose and scratched his head in an attempt to wake up more completely.

"Jarod?" she called out very sleepily, rolling onto her back.

"Go back to sleep, Parker, it's early yet," he told her in a gentle tone. "Enjoy your rest while you can – when your little brother gets up, you'll be running."

"Why are you getting up then?" she grumbled semi-coherently.

"Because," he reasoned with her, turning back and bending over the bed to kiss her cheek gently, "I can't sleep anymore. I'll be out with the laptop, seeing what news we have."

"'Kay," she murmured, rolling over once more with the blankets tucked in tightly over her shoulder and around her body and dropping almost immediately back into restful slumber. Jarod stood for a moment watching over her, and then quietly opened the bedroom door and stepped out.

The rest of the suite was still slumbering. Jarod found himself grinning at the sight of Sydney with the young Parker boy cradled in his arms, both fast asleep on the couch. He stepped close silently and turned off the lamp that shone down into both faces so that the light wouldn't disturb them and then moved off to the bathroom after walking to the round table and turning his laptop back on. By the time he'd returned, the computer was on and ready to use, and he started the email client.

As he had suspected, he had an email from Bailey, demanding that he get in contact with the FBI as soon as possible, both in order to give a deposition in regards to the crimes that he could testify to either Mr. Raines or Lyle committing as well as to discuss just what would happen to the very real charges of impersonating a federal officer that would arise from Bailey's personal knowledge of at least two Pretends that had taken place where Jarod had become an FBI agent for one reason or another.

He sat down and began to type out an answer that gave him the time he'd need to figure out his relationship with Parker and establish the family somewhere safe first. He offered to trade his testimony against Raines, Lyle and the Centre in return for a reduced or suspended sentence on the impersonation of an officer charges, reminding Bailey that he'd stayed very carefully away from anything that resembled vigilantism and had, while in the guise of an agent, obeyed all the laws and regulation that governed an agent's actions.

As he was sending the message off, the bedroom door opened and Miss Parker came out. She shot him a smile as she headed for the bathroom and then stopped with a full grin at the first sight of the pair on the couch. He nodded in response to her pointing them out, knowing exactly what she was thinking – that Sydney would soon be just as important to that little boy as he was to either of them. He returned his attention to the laptop as the bathroom door closed, heading for the Internet and one of the news sites and quickly becoming engrossed in the headlines listed there.

Miss Parker exited the bathroom and walked over to behind his chair. "What's the news?" she asked quietly, bending over him to peer at the screen.

"Looks like the investigation may widen rather quickly," he reported, pointing to the lead story on the page. "Seems that they've already uncovered enough evidence to open investigations against a number of governmental officials who have been contacting the Centre regularly and acting as clients on behalf of the government."

"There's going to be a very serious housecleaning in high places, I bet," she chuckled and straightened before taking the chair next to him and shifting closer. "Anything in email?"

"Just the stuff I was expecting – Bailey wanting me to come in…"

"Jarod!" Her eyes got wide.

"Relax," he soothed. "I told him I needed some time to put things together with my family first. The case against Raines and Lyle is going to need my first-hand testimony because so much of what is prosecutable involves me or Angelo as victims – so I have some bargaining power at my disposal when the time comes. There's also the fact that I helped Bailey get his unit reactivated after one of his key agents was framed for murder. I did an independent investigation that uncovered the real killer and the conspiracy within the department to close him down by whatever means necessary. He knows he owes me big. I may need to remind him of it down the line, but I know that he knows – if you know what I mean…"

"What about all the other law enforcement agencies you've worked with over the years?" she demanded in a harsh whisper. "If you testify, your picture is going to be all over the newspapers – and anybody with any kind of grudge against you is going to be hollering foul…"

"Shhhh…" He put up a hand and cradled her cheek in his palm. "It will be OK in the end, Parker, I promise. It may get a little touch-and-go for a while, but I'm fairly sure that we're on the downhill side of everything now."

"I'm going to lose you, aren't I – just not to your walking away," she said in a shaking voice.

"No, you're not going to lose me, Parker. I still have a few aces up my sleeve." He smiled at her and then kissed her very gently. "Trust me for a change – just a little bit."

"I'm working on it, Jarod, I really am," she replied, letting him capture one of her hands in his.

"Sissy?" a small voice sounded from the couch, followed by a grunt from Sydney as the little voice intruded on his slumber and the squirm that freed the child from his embrace finished the job of waking him up.

"Over here, little man," Miss Parker called gently and then freed her hand from Jarod's so that she could pull her little brother up into her lap. "Did you sleep well?"

"Sydney let me have a drink of water, Sissy," the child smiled at her. "Him said me not have to worry 'bout what Mr. Raines say anymore."

"That's right," she nodded firmly, "Mr. Raines will never have anything to say to you again. The only people you'll need to listen to are Jarod, Sydney, Angelo and me."

"No more bad mans, an' no more maff probwems?"

"Not for a while," Jarod promised the child. "Not until you're older."

"And then Sydney can teach you math," Miss Parker added with a smile in the direction of the older man still sitting on the couch, running his fingers through his longish hair to train it back into some semblance of order. She had yet to get used to his hair being dark and was genuinely looking forward to the day when he could let it return to its customary silver. "Sydney's a very good teacher – he can teach you lots of things when the time comes."

"Sydney is thinking that if we're all going to be getting up, maybe we should start thinking about some breakfast," Sydney announced, rising finally. "And sometime after that, we should talk about where we want to go from here." He stretched and then took his turn heading for the bathroom.

"Me get Angelo up," the little boy chirped happily and squirmed to get free of his sister's hold on him. "C'mon, Sissy – we go get Angelo now."

"Go on, Sissy," Jarod grinned over at her. "It sounds as if our little drill sergeant wants us all up…"

"Let's let Angelo sleep as long as he wants, sweetie," Miss Parker held onto the child tightly. "Just because we all got up early doesn't mean we have to get him up too."

"Angelo here," announced a sleepy Angelo as he pulled his bedroom door open.

"Angelo!" The little boy slipped from his sister's keeping and trotted over to the friend who had been one of the few bright spots in his short life. "Want breakfast?"

The bright, blue eyes of the empath lit briefly on first Jarod's and then Miss Parker's face before nodding.

"Let me get Pint-sized here dressed and then a quick shower for myself," Miss Parker announced, setting her little brother down on his feet and rising from her chair, "and I'll be ready for whatever we want to do today." She put out her hand and led the little boy in the direction of the bedroom he'd shared with Angelo earlier.

"Let's get ourselves packed up and ready to leave," Jarod nodded, shutting down his computer and closing the top. "I'd just as soon get a few hundred miles away from the center of action before we settled down for any length of time anywhere."

"So we're heading west again?" Sydney managed from behind a yawn and then bent to pick up and fold the blankets that had kept him warm the previous night.

"Colorado," Angelo announced with a pleased look on his face. "Pretty mountains. Safe."

Jarod looked over at Sydney and then joined the older man in nodding. "Perhaps, Angelo. Perhaps that is where we'll end up."

oOoOo

"What is this, anyway?" Miss Parker asked, hefting the bundle that Angelo had insisted on bringing with him from the Centre. She unzipped it a peered inside, then pulled out the tops of a whole handful of folders. "Wait a minute – this is my handwriting."

Sydney came up behind her and looked over her shoulders. "Aren't those the hardcopy versions of reports that you've filed on Jarod's various Pretends over the years?" he asked in confusion, looking at the labels for the folders. "They seem to be sorted chronologically."

Miss Parker continued to snoop, unzipping the smaller front pouch and then staring. "DSA's?" She raised questioning eyes to Angelo.

Angelo nodded at her from his spot on the couch. "No evidence left behind." He pointed. "Only exists here."

Miss Parker felt her spirits lighten, and she looked over at Jarod with a growing smile. "Maybe there won't be as many problems for you as you thought, Lab-Rat," she stated, thrusting the folders back into the stuffed backpack again and zipping the bag closed. "It looks as if Angelo has all the hardcopy evidence of many of your exploits – including DSA's of meetings with me reporting on our findings on you. The FBI may find evidence of what was done TO you all those years ago, but very little about what you've done in the years since you've been gone."

"Bailey still knows some of it, Parker," Jarod reminded her gently as she stacked the overstuffed backpack into the pile of "luggage" waiting to be taken back out to the SUV. "I came to his attention too often for him not to have noticed."

"But you said that he owes you big," she reminded him in return.

"Yeah, but he's a straight shooter when it comes to enforcement issues," he added, shouldering his laptop case and grabbing his huge duffle bag with the other hand. "I'll be collecting on what he owes me by having him go to bat for me with the federal prosecutor. But we don't have to worry about that right now. We have some time yet."

"Parker, you have a task to finish yet, something that would be best done before we go much further," Sydney reminded her as he brought out the canvas backpack that he'd purchased to hold his meager wardrobe instead of the white plastic grocery bags. He glanced at the little boy who was patiently sitting next to Angelo on the couch, watching the other adults preparing to leave. "There's a little someone here who needs to know his name."

"You're right," she said. She walked over to the couch and then knelt next to her little brother. "You know, I've been thinking," she told the child gently. "Have you ever thought what kind of name you'd like to have?"

The wide grey eyes stared up into hers with growing delight. "Me get real name, Sissy – no more 'Master Parker' anymore?"

"Is that what they called you?" Jarod asked in surprise and then shook his head. "What irony!"

"Of course you can have a name of your own, little man," Miss Parker nodded vigorously. "All good boys get names of their own. I was just wondering if there was one that you particularly liked."

The little boy shook his head slowly. "Do you have a name for me, Sissy?" he asked in a soft and hesitant voice.

"I've thought of a few," she admitted, shooting both Jarod and Sydney a cryptic glance. "Maybe you can help me decide."

"What names you got?" the little boy asked, squirming in his place in excitement, his eyes glued to his sister's face.

"Well, there's Jacob," she began, pointedly avoiding looking at Sydney, "or Kyle," now avoiding Jarod as well, "or Timmy," now avoiding Angelo, "or Thomas." She took a deep breath and patted him on the knee. "Those are the best names that I can think of. What do you think?"

The dark little head tipped in thought. "Me like Timmy," the boy remarked immediately. "Me can be Timmy?"

Miss Parker lifted her eyes to Angelo at last, and the empath could see that she was asking his permission to give her little brother his old name. He nodded mutely – and she looked back at her little brother. "Then that's your name from now on – Timmy. Maybe we can add a middle name to tell you from all the other Timmys in the world and call you Timothy Thomas. What do you think?"

"Me can be Timmy forever?" the little one asked, his hands clasped tightly in his excitement.

"Absolutely," Jarod commented before Miss Parker could respond. "Do you like that name?"

The dark head bobbed up and down vigorously.

Miss Parker looked back at Angelo. "You don't mind?" she asked him gently.

Angelo turned his crystal blue eyes on her and smiled sweetly. "Timmy gone no more," he answered gently. "Good thing. Angelo like."

Timmy turned elated eyes to the older man who had helped him in the middle of the night. "Me gots a name, Sydney! Me Timmy now."

"Indeed," the psychiatrist smiled broadly at the boy. "Now you have a name, just like the rest of us."

"C'mon," Jarod urged, opening the suite door carefully without dislodging his laptop from his shoulder. "I don't know about any of you, but I'm starved – and it's time we got on the road." His dark eyes rested on Miss Parker. "Angelo recommends we head west for Colorado. I'm going to suggest that we put that into the hopper as the first suggestion for a place to call home."

"That's a long drive," Miss Parker sighed, taking up her share of the luggage with one hand and taking Timmy's hand in the other. "I thought we'd be able to not spend all our time behind the wheel for a while."

"We don't have to get there immediately, do we?" Sydney answered as he shouldered his backpack and took up Angelo's with his other hand. "Now that everything's accomplished as far as we're concerned, we can take our time, can't we?"

"Mountains good place," Angelo nodded with a wide smile. "Good place to make home."

Miss Parker looked at Angelo and then nodded. "Maybe Colorado wouldn't be such a bad idea." She'd long since learned that Angelo's hunches and suggestions weren't to be taken lightly. If he said Colorado was a good place to land, he probably knew something the rest of them didn't — yet.

"I think the best place for our first stop along the way will be somewhere they serve food," Sydney shook his head indulgently. "And then maybe we could stop somewhere to get a couple of fellows some clothing that's a little more cheery than the institutional greys they're wearing…"

"Me get new clothes too, Sissy?" Timmy chirped, looking up into his big sister's face.

"After breakfast," she told him. "Syd's right – we need to get some food in us before we do much else."

Jarod saw that the pile of luggage had vanished. "So that's it – we're off?"

"Lead on, Jarod," Miss Parker urged. "We're with you."


	12. Ties That Bind

Chapter 12 – Ties That Bind

Angelo smiled and waved at Daughter as she sat at a park bench watching Jarod push little Timmy higher and higher into the air on the park swing. There was something about her today that beckoned to him, however, and so he left Sydney standing and spotting in case the boy decided to slip from the swing and walked over to join her on the bench. "Daughter confused," he announced with a tip of the head.

Miss Parker looked into those knowing blue eyes with real surprise, and then nodded. "That pretty well sums it up," she admitted both to herself and to her old childhood friend.

"Everything new – different." Angelo narrowed his eyes slightly and struggled to find words to express what he was feeling from her. It wasn't an easy task — the emotions she was projecting were jumbled, tending to make very little sense. "Strange." He pondered for a moment, then reached out and took one of her hands in his. "A good strange." His crystal blue gaze was piercing, as if willing her to understand.

"I know," she answered his fractured reassurance and squeezed his hand in appreciation. "I just feel a little lost, that's all."

That was a masterpiece of understatement. She was completely a-sea in the new relationships that she found herself in every waking moment now. Timmy was an active and inquisitive two and a half year old, and he kept her very busy answering questions and running after him when the group would land in a place for one of their thirty-six hour rests between days of driving. With Timmy claiming the bulk of her attention and Angelo present too, there had been no chance for her to have the heart-to-heart talk with Sydney that she desperately needed. As for Jarod, he wasn't pushing her into an intimate relationship at all — and in many ways, that was the most confusing thing of all.

They'd been on the road for over two weeks now — and had made it as far as Lincoln, Nebraska before they'd stopped for one of their extended rests again. The emotional turmoil of the days before the rescue in Blue Cove had been set aside for the most part, and the days since been relatively uneventful. Conversation had been kept light and non-confrontational. For her, the entire trip had taken on an almost surreal feeling — she was completely comfortable and contented to be with the people she was traveling with, and yet she felt as if she wasn't entirely sure where she stood with any of them, except her little brother.

Timmy adored his big sister without any reservation whatsoever and took every opportunity to remind her of that. For the first time in her life, she felt anchored by another person's love for her and knew the joy of being able to return it in full and uninhibited measure. Life with Timmy was proving to be one continuous voyage of discovery filled with new sights and sounds and tastes for him, new insights into just how isolated he'd been for her and new guilt that she'd not been able to protect him from that until now.

But Jarod's love for her and the way he was demonstrating it to her was something she couldn't quite fathom, however. Their nights together were still for pure rest and comfort, neither were willing at this point to upset the fragile peaceful apple cart by adding passion to the mix. Neither of them was suffering from nightmares, and the fact that both were awakening in the morning rested and ready to face the challenges of the day was encouraging. But there was something gnawing away in the pit of her stomach — something that felt off — and she didn't have the vaguest idea how to identify it or disarm it.

"Daughter need Sydney," Angelo understood suddenly, as if a light had blinked on and illuminated that corner of her psyche. "Angelo fix." He rose quickly and was gone from her side almost before she could respond and call him back.

She watched in mortification as Angelo walked up to Sydney and spoke a few words – enough that Sydney turned and looked at her with a quizzical look on his face. Sydney in turn said something brief to Jarod, making that one nod absentmindedly, and then the older man walked resolutely in her direction. "What did he tell you?" she asked him in frustration as he drew closer.

"That you needed to speak to me privately," he replied and then seated himself next to her. "I'd been thinking that you and I were going to need some private time fairly soon anyway. I'm just sorry that we haven't exactly had the chance to talk very much before now. We haven't exactly had time to ourselves, have we?"

"No, we haven't," she agreed, and then let her attention be caught by Timmy's delighted screams as Jarod pushed him to even greater heights on the swing.

Sydney let his eyes wander back to where the others were playing for a while, and then he looked back at her. He lifted a dark tendril of hair out of her face with careful fingers, grateful that she had taken the time to return her looks to normal as soon as Jarod had pronounced the coast clear. His own silver was finally beginning to show as the rinse washed out more and more everyday, which pleased him no end. That Jarod was still enjoying life as a blonde was as amusing as it was disconcerting. "What's going on, Parker?" he pressed very gently. "You've been stewing for days."

She lifted one shoulder listlessly. "I don't know," she said softly, then looked up at him with wide, grey eyes. "Is it just me, or does everything seem a little… superficial… lately?"

Sydney's lips quirked in the beginnings of a smile. "You mean you'd gotten used to living life with your emotions all exposed and raw, and you're having trouble adjusting to social niceties again?"

She tipped her head for a moment. "I suppose that's part of it," she admitted. "We were so close, so intense, for a while…"

He nodded slowly. "We needed to be at the time. We had to tear our former relationships to shreds so that we could begin to build new ones. We may very well need to be that way again before everything's said and done, but…" He smoothed the hair with his hand, letting his palm linger at the side of her head. "That's not all of it, is it?"

"No." Miss Parker thought long and hard, and then gave in to the temptation and leaned, glad to feel that hand at her head slip around her shoulder and hold her close. "Sydney, I don't know what to do…"

"About what?"

"Jarod." She leaned just a little harder.

Her answer had startled him, and he tightened his hold on her just a bit. "But I thought you and he…"

She shook her head against his chest. "It's nothing like that. We sleep together, and that's all — just sleep."

"And you want more, is that it?" What did she want from him — permission to take Jarod as a lover? Sydney suddenly felt the mantle of parental responsibility settle about his shoulders like a warm and heavy cloak as the perspective through which he saw her on every level of his being made a sudden, drastic and very permanent shift. There was no more doubt, no more hypothesizing, no more intellectualizing. No longer was she the daughter he wished he'd had all those years. This WAS his daughter, as much a part of him as the air he was breathing — and she was coming to him for advice and comfort. He'd never felt quite so honored before — or so inadequate.

"I thought I needed space to work out our relationships — especially now, with Timmy and Angelo with us. And in a way, I suppose it's helped NOT having to worry about… But…"

"Do you love him?" The question was soft and low.

The dark head nodded very slowly against his chest. "I think so."

"You only think so?" His voice conveyed his skepticism.

She thought for a moment. No — it was more than that. "Yes, I love him," she stated more firmly. She did. That was half the problem.

She felt him nod over her. "OK. Does he know you love him?"

"He knows I'm willing to see where a relationship with him might go…"

"That's not what I asked, Parker." Sydney pushed her away just far enough so that he could look into her face. "Does he know that you love him?"

"I don't know," she answered softly, unable to keep meeting that kind, warm gaze.

"What's stopping you from telling him so in so many words?" His question earned him the sensation of her flinching ever so slightly within his embrace. "You're still not sure you can trust him not to leave you."

"If the FBI decides to press charges, he could go to prison, Sydney," she exclaimed and leaned in again. "I'd lose him…"

"Parker, that's not losing him," he soothed, tightening his arm around her shoulder again. "That's just having life put into a holding pattern for a while. Besides, Jarod's pretty sure that he can swing a deal to get a suspended sentence." He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head fondly. "What is it you REALLY want of him? Don't be coy — say it straight out. What do you want?"

She couldn't believe it! He was calling up her fighting spirit — the part of her that could withstand anything, a part of her that she'd thought wasn't wanted within the new rules of her family. "I can't just…"

"Sure you can, Parker." He pushed her away again and held her face between his hands. "What's stopping you?"

"I thought…"

He knew exactly what was stopping her — and it was time to put an end to that illusion. "Sweetheart, you don't have to change who you are to be more loveable. You have no less right to stand up and ask for what you want than you ever have — how you go about getting what you want is what really matters. Jarod knows you easily as well as I do, maybe even better. And if he's anything like me, he loves YOU — the person you really are — not some idealized woman. The person you really are tends to be just a little temperamental and opinionated, a woman who knows what she wants and is willing to do what it takes to get it – not a lapdog afraid to make her wishes known." He pinned her with a probing gaze. "Now stop trying to be someone you're not and just tell me. What do YOU want?"

Miss Parker could feel the confidence pouring from him into her, the acceptance of her right to be herself without apology. "I want Jarod," she said softly — and then, when he tipped his brows at her in challenge, she repeated a little more firmly, "I want Jarod."

"Good." He nodded in satisfaction and settled back in his seat, letting his eyes wander back to where Jarod and Angelo now each had Timmy by the hands and were swinging him into the air between them. "Now all you have to do is figure out how to get him."

"That part I think I know," she commented and worked hard not to blush when he turned a surprise smile at her.

"Yes," he agreed carefully, making certain that the moment wasn't allowed to morph into a crude joke, "I'd imagine you do." He raised his eyebrows again when her gaze sobered and continued to rest on his face. "What?"

"You know what?" she asked softly.

"What?"

"All my life I've wanted a father that I could go to who could help me think things through — someone I could trust with my very soul, if need be, and know that he'd make sure I was going to be OK in the end." She leaned into his upper arm, but this time as a gesture of affection rather than in an effort to receive comfort. "Finally, I've found him. I love you, Sydney."

He kissed her forehead. "I love you too, Parker," he answered, finding the words not at all difficult to say anymore, "I always have, and I always will." She had said the word 'trust' — and that certainly had been the key. Each iteration of the declaration he'd just made had graven the emotion deeper into his psyche. It was an insight worth sharing, under the circumstances.

"You know, loving someone is taking a huge risk, because the only way to love another person is to be completely vulnerable to them and trust that they won't take advantage of that vulnerability. It has taken me a very long time to learn that trust," he told her simply. "But I'm finding that the more I open to loving you as a daughter, the easier it gets and the more I can depend on it. Maybe what you need to do is find a kernel of trust that you can have in Jarod right now and then build on that."

She nodded, seeing the reason in his words. "Maybe."

He shrugged at her. "It's the only wisdom I have for you, sweetheart. I'm sorry…"

She squeezed his upper arm a little more tightly. "It's fine, Sydney. Honest." It was better than fine, actually — this was that father-daughter relationship they'd been working so hard at building finally functioning properly and smoothly between them, and part of the feeling of surrealism fell away. Sydney was right — the intensity had served its purpose, but it wasn't needed all the time.

She looked up at the two men and little boy and their horseplay and smiled at the joy on all three's faces. "You suppose we should go over there before those two dislocate that poor kid's shoulders?"

"If you think you've discussed all you need to for the time being," he nodded. "Feel better?"

Her dark head nodded with much more assurance. "Thanks."

He rose and looked at her for a long moment, cherishing the closeness he felt with her now. "You're entirely welcome," he responded and held out an elbow so that they could walk together to rejoin the others.

oOoOo

The picnic lunch they had assembled at the outdoor table vanished almost the moment it was set out, inhaled by two hungry men and a little boy who was finally beginning to lose that gaunt, institutionalized look he'd had a week earlier. As Parker had made the sandwiches and portioned out the salad and chips and drinks, Jarod appointed himself cleanup crew and waved her off to join Timmy and Angelo in their play. Timmy ran to the sandbox and plunked himself down amid several other children near his age while Miss Parker settled onto a swing to keep an eye on him, smiling when Angelo moved closer to the box and then sat in the grass watching the little ones intently.

Jarod glanced over at his former mentor, who was wrapping the leftover food carefully and putting it back in the grocery sack while he was clearing the table of the paper plates and plastic utensils. "Hey, Sydney, do you have a minute?"

Sydney looked up with surprise. "Of course. What's up?"

Jarod walked his sack of trash over to the can and deposited it firmly, then walked back to the picnic table. "I need some advice."

"This seems to be my day," Sydney commented with a chuckle and seated himself again. "I should hang out my 'the doctor is IN' sign. So… What kind of advice are you looking for?"

"Advice that will help me understand where things are going with Parker."

The older psychiatrist managed to keep a straight face. "Aren't things going well between you two? I mean…I thought…"

"It's not that," Jarod exclaimed and then seated himself across the table from Sydney. "I mean, we sleep together, but we don't… you know…" He paused and, at the blank look in his mentor's face, added, "Sleeping is ALL we do."

Sydney's brows slid up his forehead. "And this is a problem?"

"No…" Jarod sighed. "Yes." He gestured vaguely with his hands. "We decided that we'd try to see where a relationship would lead, but we figured that we'd keep it from getting complicated by not… becoming intimately involved…"

"I get it," Sydney took pity on the younger man. "What's the problem?"

"We just don't seem to be going anywhere with things anymore," Jarod breathed in frustration. "I don't know how to get her to trust that I'm not just going to walk away the minute we get settled. And without that trust…"

"She has a point," Sydney reasoned gently. "All she has is your word that you aren't going to vanish some evening like you always used to."

"How do I show her…"

"By not vanishing," Sydney answered firmly. "By being there when she needs to lean."

"I have been," Jarod exclaimed, his frustration making his voice strident. "I'm there for her in the night, I don't push for more than she's ready to give…"

"I know," the older man nodded understandingly.

"How long…"

"Jarod…" Now it was Sydney's turn to sigh. "You spent years being a shadow that she could see for a brief moment, only to evaporate the minute she looked closely. You don't undo the conditioning years of that kind of behavior creates in just a few days."

"I know that this is for the long haul," Jarod sighed back. "And I intend to be here day in and day out from now on. But it's hard, loving her and not…" He folded one hand into a fist and banged it ever so gently against the tabletop.

"What do you want, Jarod?" Sydney's question was soft.

"I want her, Sydney."

"You mean, in bed…"

"Yes. No!" Jarod was astonished and almost outraged at the suggestion coming from Sydney, of all people. "I want…" His gaze shifted as he ran directly into what he really wanted and found it bigger than he'd thought.

"Well?" Sydney could be patient.

"I want a wife, a family."

"I thought we'd all decided we were family," Sydney protested, knowing where his protégé needed to go in his mind and willing to lead him there.

"I want more — with her," Jarod admitted quietly. "I've never wanted anything quite so much in my life."

"Not even to find your mother?"

Dark chocolate eyes looked up sharply only to find themselves pinned by an equally sharp chestnut stare. Eventually Jarod looked away. "Finding my family is important," he admitted, "but I think that this is more important now. I don't see my future without her in it — and I don't want to."

"Does she love you?" Sydney asked gently.

"I don't know," the Pretender sighed again. "I want to think so, but…"

"Have you asked her?"

Jarod shook his head. "Not in so many words."

"I think," Sydney announced finally, moving his feet around the end of the picnic table bench, "that the two of you need to have a long and serious talk the next time you're alone."

"I don't want to push her…"

"I know you don't," Sydney soothed and clapped a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You just need to figure out a way to broach the subject without it seeming like you're simply pushing her to…" He paused and sought a diplomatic way to express the thought. "…start a more intimate relationship."

"I was hoping maybe you had some advice to help me be patient," Jarod replied after a long moment. "Some way to get through the days and nights without going crazy while she learns that I mean what I say – that I'm not going to just up and vanish on her when the mood strikes."

Sydney smiled tightly and shook his head. "Patience is a practice that can't be taught, Jarod. If you want patience, then you learn it by being patient and deliberately setting aside frustration and worry as counterproductive." The chestnut eyes rested warmly on Jarod's face. "It is a moment-by-moment decision not to get angry or pushy — nothing more, and nothing less."

"And you make it look so easy…"

At that, Sydney burst out laughing. "Nothing could be further from the truth. Patience is never an easy practice…"

"And yet you waited for Michelle for years."

Sydney's grin died very quickly, and he heaved a sigh. "Yes, I did — and you can see what it got me. Patience has its place, but don't make my mistake and let it go on too long." The psychiatrist's face grew melancholy. "Perhaps, if I had pressed my suit with a little more vigor, I could have won her back. I'll never know now." He rubbed his eyes with his fingers and then looked at Jarod sharply. "Take my advice — if you want Parker that badly, then keep the issue fresh. You don't have to push, but don't let it languish on a back-burner of your mind either."

Jarod swung his feet over the bench and turned so that he could prop his back against the table and watch Miss Parker playing in the sand with Timmy. "Thanks, Sydney," he told the man who moved to sit on the bench next to him, also leaning back and making himself comfortable to watch the others. "That helps."

Sydney nodded. Things between these two people were reaching another turning point — he could only hope that what he'd said could help them make the right choice.

oOoOo

"Sissy?"

"Yes, Timmy?" Miss Parker rolled her eyes and then glowered at Jarod when he started having trouble stifling his chuckles at the sound of adult patience beginning to be stretched thin by youthful questioning. Just wait until she gave HIM charge of Timmy for an entire afternoon of Q and A! He'd not be chuckling quite so much then!

"Why me not gots a Mommy or Daddy?" The wide grey eyes gazed up into his big sister's face trustingly. "Where dey goed? Doze kids gots Mommies and Daddies — why me not gots 'em too?"

It was the one line of questions that Miss Parker had been both expecting and dreading, and she felt the bottom fall out of the pit of her stomach. She paused next to the little boy and went down on one knee next to him, her hands landing on his shoulders gently. "Sweetie, your real Mommy and Daddy are gone. Your Mommy died when you were born, and your Daddy…" How was she going to explain how or why Mr. Parker had stepped out of an airplane over a stormy nighttime Atlantic?

"Him deaded too?" The grey eyes had tears in them by the time she started to nod. "What me gonna do?"

"Well…" Miss Parker could feel Jarod moving to be near her, and she'd never appreciated his support more until that very moment. "I knew that you were going to be asking these questions someday, and I was thinking that maybe I could become like a Mommy to you, and Jarod here could be like a Daddy. That way you'd still have a family of your own – only a new one to take the place of the one you don't have anymore."

"You be my Mommy?" Timmy's voice sank into an awestruck whisper. "And Jarod be my Daddy?" Miss Parker nodded vigorously. "What about Sydney? Him be my Grandpa den?"

"I don't know — maybe you should ask him," Miss Parker suggested with a twinkle in her eye.

Timmy moved away from his big sister and walked right up to the older man with whom he'd become fast friends. "Sissy say me should ask you if you wanna be my Grandpa," he pronounced seriously. "Please, Sydney?"

Sydney, like Miss Parker, went down on one knee to put himself at the little boy's level. "If that's what you want…" he started, then stopped as he ended up with an armful of child launched at his neck like from a catapult.

"Grandpa," the little boy purred, then squirmed out of Sydney's grasp and ran pell-mell back to Miss Parker and launched himself at her. "Me call you Mommy now?"

"Yeah, little man," she cuddled her little br… her son, she corrected herself immediately, tightly.

Timmy squirmed from her grasp then and looked up at Jarod. "And you be my Daddy?"

Jarod bent and lifted the boy up into his arms. "I would be very proud to be your Daddy, Timmy," the Pretender said softly, not having realized until that very moment just how much having a small child look to him as a father could mean. He gave Sydney a knowing glance, suddenly finding common ground with a man who had become as his father over the past few weeks.

"What about Angelo?" Timmy looked down into the empath's upturned blue eyes.

"Angelo uncle," the empath answered with a brilliant smile. "Family too."

Miss Parker smiled at her old childhood friend, remembering that Jarod had warned her that he understood a great deal more than any of them had ever given him credit for. "I like that," she remarked softly, drawing the crystal blue gaze to her. "I like that a lot."

"We going home soon?" was the next question from the inexhaustible curiosity of the cherub in Jarod's arms.

"We're on our way home now," Jarod told the boy firmly, with a glance at Miss Parker to make sure that everyone was on the same page. She nodded. Yes — it was a slow and restful trip, and at the end of it would be a new home for all of them.

"Where home?"

"Colorado," Angelo announced with total conviction. "Mountains."

"Mountains?" Timmy smiled widely. "Home is in da mountains?"

"That's what Uncle Angelo says," Miss Parker confirmed, pulling Timmy's striped tee shirt down to cover his back in an automatic gesture and then smoothing her hand across his back fondly.

oOoOo

With Angelo and Timmy settled down on the end of one bed watching cartoons and Miss Parker at a local Laundromat, taking care of the family's laundering needs, Sydney found himself wandering over to stand behind Jarod at the laptop. "Any news?" he asked his former protégé, seeing the email program open.

"There's a note from Bailey – he's talked to the federal prosecutor; and considering the kind of testimony they want against Raines and Lyle and the rest, there's a very real possibility of either immunity or a suspended sentence on the impersonation charges. But they're going to want to have me give a preliminary deposition sometime in the next month." Jarod scratched his head. "Hopefully we'll have found a place to settle down by then. You have any problem with Colorado, like Angelo insists?"

"I'm not picky at all," Sydney replied. "You and Parker could settle down on the Centre front lawn for all I care – as long as our family stays together, I'll go with the flow." He peeked over the Pretender's shoulder at the email screen. "Is that something from Broots I see there?"

Jarod chuckled. "Never could keep much from you…" he commented so that Sydney could share in the chuckle. "Broots says that he's got himself a new job with Intel and is moving to California at the end of the month. He'll be in touch when he has his new address and phone number so that we can get back in closer contact with him and Debbie."

"Parker will be glad to hear that," the older man nodded. "Any news about Sam?"

Jarod shook his head. "Nothing. But I hacked the FBI site for the report on the raid, and Sam wasn't listed there as having been arrested or detained – nor has there been any warrant issued for him since then. He must have paid attention when she warned him off and found a hole to crawl into."

"Good," Sydney smiled with satisfaction. "The man was always more than just a muscle-bound meathead, despite what Raines thought. He'll be OK – and Parker will be relieved to know this too." He put a warm hand on Jarod's shoulder. "I can hardly believe how well your plan worked, getting the little Sanchez boy out of there and taking Raines and his crew down for good measure — not to mention springing Angelo and Timmy."

"I know," Jarod nodded, pushing the laptop away. "It felt good to get a little of my own back, you know?"

Sydney nodded. "There is an old saying that 'the mills of God are known to grind very slowly, but they grind exceedingly small,' which in essence says that the Centre had it coming for a very long time — it was inevitable that it reap the rewards of its actions."

"I think you told me that one a long time ago, while we were deconstructing a SIM of crime spree." Jarod watched Sydney sit down in the cushioned straight chair near him. "After I got away, and I started to do these Pretends dealing with little people who had been denied justice, it occurred to me that a little bit of honest retribution — in a sufficiently benign form — could be a good thing."

"The thing about retribution that you need to be careful of is that it can get out of control very easily," Sydney shook his head. "Did you never feel tempted to go over the top?"

"A few times," Jarod stated darkly. "And once I suppose I did overstep the line, even though my intention was honorable." He glanced over at his old mentor. "I'm kinda glad to be out of the Pretending business, if you want to know the truth. I'm tired of lying and having to watch very carefully what I say so as not to be caught out."

"I don't exactly see you sitting around the house getting hooked on soap operas or the Home Shopping Network," Sydney chuckled at him. "So now that you've decided to go completely legit, what do you intend to do?"

"I haven't exactly decided that part of it yet, Sydney," Jarod admitted, and then let loose a brilliant smile. "I guess it's finally time for me to figure out what I want to be when I grow up, huh?"

Sydney reached out and ruffled Jarod's hair fondly. "Of course it is," he exclaimed with an indulgent smile. "I'm sure this would have occurred to you earlier if it hadn't been for this artificial stupidity you inflicted on yourself…"

"You don't like it." Jarod sounded petulant.

"It isn't you," Sydney replied firmly.

"I should have just shaved my head anyway. At least then you and Parker wouldn't be calling me names now…"

Sydney shook his head and sighed.

oOoOo

Miss Parker looked up as Jarod walked into the extra bedroom of the motel suite, closing the door behind him. "Timmy's asleep?" she asked, continuing to pull the brush through her dark hair.

"Out like the proverbial light," he replied with a grin. "All that fresh air and playtime in a park on our rest days usually does him in fairly early, if you hadn't noticed."

"Angelo and Syd playing chess again?"

He moved to the other side of the bed and pulled his tee shirt over his head and tucked it into one of the canvas bags the little group had purchased as portable dirty clothes hampers. "Yup." He peeled the black denim jeans from his long legs and pulled on a roomy set of sweatpants. "And Angelo has Sydney pretty well backed into a corner for as early in the game as it is. Something tells me that I'll need to bone up again before I play either one of them or run the risk of being creamed alive. Except for those few games I played with Sydney before we ended up in Blue Cove, I haven't had any decent competition for a long time — I've gotten rusty."

"Did you get a chance to talk to Sydney about Colorado?" she asked then, putting her hairbrush on the little cabinet next to her side of the bed and shifting so she could slip her feet between the crisp, clean sheets – watching his face as she did.

Jarod shrugged. "He said that he was content to go wherever it was that we decide – that he isn't particular." He ran his fingers through his hair – hair that showed the black roots very clearly through the blonde now. "I can't think of a good reason NOT to head to Colorado – can you?" When her answer was a shake of the head, he shrugged again. "Then Colorado it is. You want rural or city?"

"Rural," she answered immediately, wrapping her arms around her knees and leaning her cheek into them. "Between where my father sent me to school in Europe and the confines of the Centre later on, I've had all the high-pressured lifestyle I want for one lifetime." She watched as he sat down on the edge of the bed and then made the same shift to slip his feet between the sheets that she had. "Is that OK with you?"

"I like the rural life," he responded, leaning back against the headboard with his hands tucked behind his neck. "Getting to know the neighbors, working within a small and familiar group of people for social contact and variety." He then leaned forward and reached out a gentle hand to her back and then smoothed small circles against the satiny pajama blouse. "How does it feel being a Mommy rather than a Sissy?"

Impulsively, Miss Parker straightened and then rolled slightly so she could lean her head on his shoulder, feeling him hesitate slightly before wrapping his arm around her to hold her close. "It probably feels just about the same as it feels to be a Daddy rather than a Jarod," she smiled. She lay quiet in his arms for a long and comfortably quiet moment, enjoying the feel of him holding her so carefully and gently and thinking through the way the little boy's – their son's – delight at the idea of having parents had become contagious as the day had worn on. "Are you ready for what's coming?" she asked in a hushed tone eventually, "everything that comes with being a Daddy?"

"I think I've been ready for this my whole life," Jarod replied honestly, his arm tightening around her slightly. "You gotta realize, this is the end of the fairytale for me, Parker – the part that reads 'and they lived happily ever after.' When I was younger and would sit and think about the way I'd want to see my life, this is what I would see."

"But what about your family — your parents?"

"My family is here, Parker. The man who raised me, a little boy who calls me Daddy…" His lips dropped a very soft and almost imperceptible kiss into her hair. "…you…" When he felt her snuggle just a little closer, he allowed himself the cautious luxury of nuzzling her hair more obviously. "I have everything I could ever want, right here. I'll find my parents eventually — I have no doubt about that — but THIS is what I was really after. This is everything to me."

"Everything?" she asked pointedly, tipping her head up so that she could look at the expression on his face – and so that he could see the expression on hers.

"Well…" he hedged, almost holding his breath at the expectant look in her eyes and the way that she seemed to be moving closer yet, "I can think of a few things that would make it absolutely perfect…"

"Such as…?" The expectant look in her eyes had melted into an expression of invitation, and her hand had journeyed from its place at his waist and was tracing the line of his jaw with a soft and exploring fingers.

The sensation was intoxicating. "Parker," Jarod groaned, having to fight his inclination to show her in no uncertain terms what would make his world perfect. But then, amazingly, the hand at his face slipped around the base of his skull and was drawing him down – down until she could stretch up and touch her lips to his.

The touch was electric, and the kiss had deepened before either of them could realize what was happening. Jarod surrounded her with his arms and pulled her into his embrace, rejoicing as she began to respond to him. Just when it seemed as if he was ready to roll her over into her pillows, however, Jarod broke the kiss and held her very close to him, his heart pounding in his chest and breathing hard as if he'd run a marathon. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done to harness his passion and bring it to heel when it would be so easy to just let go and make love to her the way he'd wanted to for so long. "Parker," he tried again, kissing her forehead, her eyes, "tell me to stop. I love you too much to…"

"Jarod," she said softly, the fingers of her hand landing on his lips to stop his words, "I love you too."

He pulled back in sheer astonishment. "What did you say?"

Her lips twitched into a smile. "I said I love you too. What did you think I said?"

"I…" He gazed long into her grey eyes, struggling against the wide smile that wanted to burst across his face in triumph and satisfaction. "You mean it?"

She smiled back a smile of pure mischief, her eyes beginning to twinkle. "Just shut up and kiss me again, boy-genius," she ordered with the faintest hint of the old Ice Queen voice.

She could see the barely restrained passion in his dark eyes simmering in the back of his gaze but still held in check by an iron will. He wasn't ready to play along quite yet — obviously this was too important to him. "If I kiss you again," he informed her very deliberately, "I won't be able to stop again if you change your mind." His hand came up and cupped a cheek gently. "Be very, very sure this is what you want, Parker. I don't want to ruin US…"

Miss Parker ran her hand down his chest in a slow caress, letting her fingertips tangle in the dark curls they found there. "I am sure, Jarod – I'm not going to change my mind. I'm ready for US." She gazed at him earnestly. "I love you."

"God, I love you," Jarod ground out and finally let his lips capture hers in a deep and fiery kiss that left no doubt of his sincerity – or of what was going to happen next. The passion he'd held in tight control surged as those controls were released, and he knew at last the joy of having her permission to show her just how much she meant to him.

oOoOo

"So? Is everybody ready?" Jarod called back into the SUV from his spot in the driver's seat.

"Go," replied Angelo, whose smile for the two in the front seat hadn't dimmed since they'd first appeared that morning.

"Yeah!" cheered Timmy from his car seat tucked safely between his new Grandpa and uncle.

"Whenever you are," Sydney answered with a quietly satisfied smile of his own.

Jarod turned to Miss Parker. "Have you got a suggestion for our next big stop?"

She shook her head at him. "You know what, Jarod? I think I've had enough vacation. Let's go home."

"Colorado?" he inquired with raised brows, and she nodded. He peeked into the rear view mirror at the trio behind them. "Colorado OK with you folks?"

"Go home now," Angelo nodded happily.

"Yeah!" erupted from the car seat in the middle.

"It's time," Sydney agreed with his daughter. "Let's go home. We have lots to do when we get there — the sooner we start…"

"…the sooner we'll get it done," Jarod and Parker intoned with him.

The SUV pulled carefully from the motel parking lot, headed for the nearby interstate highway headed west.


	13. Epilogue

Chapter 13 – Epilogue

Parker looked up from her paperwork yet again to stare out the home office window at the mountains beyond. Jarod was due home from Delaware today, and the hours before Sydney was supposed to drive into Denver and pick him up were positively crawling. The contract on the desk in front of her had only barely been able to hold her concentration, and even then only because she was being extremely well paid to examine the financial ramifications and make sure that the merger between the two legal firms in question didn't shortchange anyone involved. Her reputation as a tough business mediator and an expert in corporate law had garnered her a steady stream of clients from as far away as Denver and Colorado Springs to her tiny office above the local drug store, some of them even coming to the sprawling ranch house in the middle of nowhere to present their cases to her and attempt to hire her expert legal mind. But her mind today was anywhere but on the details of the merger.

Outside, she could hear the steady snip-snip-snipping of topiary shrubs getting their biweekly pruning. She had no doubt that Angelo was probably outside as well, for the empath tended to remain in fairly close proximity to Sydney anytime he wasn't taking care of little Timmy. Today, however, was one of Timmy's days at the local preschool with his little friends, leaving Angelo with plenty of time on his hands to spend in the early autumn sun with his benefactor. These days, that meant that Sydney and Angelo would either be in the sun, tending the topiary and the vegetable gardens that supplied a good deal of their fresh food in summer and autumn, or in the greenhouse tending the bonsai collection that Sydney had kept and Jarod had eventually been able to reclaim from the Centre arboretum before they'd perished for lack of care.

Sighing, she rose and walked over to the window and then stood with her hands resting on the sizeable bulge in her middle and watched her adopted brother tend the manicured shrubs. The baby was getting more and more active lately, and Jarod was starting to make noises that he was hoping she would take a break from her career as a business lawyer — to abandon her office in the small mountain community and stay at home with their growing brood once the baby was born. She knew that Sydney secretly hoped that Jarod's arguments would be successful, for he had glowed with a very quiet joy at the idea of their little family growing by one and had taken great pleasure in coddling her and pampering her as much as he dared as her stomach had grown.

Although the old psychiatrist dearly loved Timmy and had been more than willing to play Grandpa to the little boy as the family unit solidified, there was not a doubt in her mind that Sydney considered her unborn child his first real grandchild and intended to be even more involved in her life than before once it arrived. Not that she minded — Sydney was everything she'd ever wanted in a father, and she couldn't even imagine life without him in that role any longer.

The others of the family were equally excited about the new arrival. Angelo was unreservedly delighted at the prospect of a new baby, and his excitement had infected Timmy so that the boy could hardly wait for his new 'brother' or 'sister' to make their appearance. And except for the fact that she was starting to feel as big as a house and ungainly as her pregnancy moved into the final months, she too was looking forward to holding her child in her arms for the first time.

Jarod, a man who had wanted a family of his own for almost his entire life, had been ecstatic when she told him he was going to be a father for the first time after only a little more than a year of marriage. He'd spent the last two years raising Timmy as his own, to the point that now the boy could barely remember a time in his life when 'Daddy' hadn't been there for him. But this new life growing within her fascinated the Pretender as very little else had. Even his searching for his biological family had stopped holding any real claim to his time or attention of late – he was far more interested in watching over every moment of the development of his coming child and making sure that she stayed as healthy as she could.

Only the most important of issues could draw him away from her side now – the denouement of the criminal case against William Raines and Lyle Parker being the last of those that would manage to do that for a good long time. Jarod had been a key witness for the prosecution, and his testimony in a federal courtroom in Dover against the Centre as an organization and two of the men who had made his childhood and early adult life a living hell had taken days to deliver. A promise to deliver future testimony in several other criminal cases dealing with national security issues posed by Centre activities with other companies and foreign governments had been his key to avoiding prosecution for multiple charges of impersonating an agent of the FBI — a deal with the Justice Department that he'd nailed down with Bailey's help a month after the initial raid on the Centre. Those other cases were still being built and investigated — the amount of data retrieved from the Centre that needed to be analyzed beforehand being virtually mountainous. The criminal trial of William Raines and Lyle Parker had been over almost the moment the jury got the case — both men were found guilty after less than a day's deliberations.

His return home that afternoon would mark a major landmark on a long road that had started with a phone call in the middle of the night about a missing colleague and had, over time, seen the fall of the Centre and the subsequent bankruptcy of the Triumvirate. When the eye of the law had begun to swing toward the African-based conglomerate, all members of that organization based in the US had pulled up stakes and left the country abruptly – but the damage had been done. By maintaining such close ties to the Centre and then being suspected of collusion with the scandalous behavior that still shocked and horrified the civilized world, their days had been numbered. By the time the Federal Government was ready to disburse the ample assets derived from the sale of Centre equipment and properties and closing of bank accounts, the Triumvirate was no longer a viable consortium with the legal presence capable of collecting funds owed.

In Angelo and Timmy's name, Parker – by then Mrs. Jarod Charles – had launched a court battle to wrest control of the huge fortune left behind in the Centre's wake from any other disreputable creditors who remained. She had divided the ultimate settlement award between a trust fund that assured Timmy's future, a trust fund that assured Angelo of adequate funds for his needs for the rest of his life, a very sizeable set of bank accounts for hers and Jarod's use, and smaller sums handed over to the Broots family, the Sanchez family, and held in trust for the still-missing half of the Charles family for all the pain and suffering they had gone through as a result of their contact with the Centre. She had left the rest — a huge sum — with the Delaware Attorney General's office to dip into when it came to settling claims against the Centre by any other victims who could successfully sue their cases.

With Jarod's share of the settlement carefully invested so that they were assured of a healthy income to live on whether they worked another day in their lives or not, she'd used her share to buy this property outright and completely remodel the house that they'd moved into as a rental after serendipitously happening on the quiet mountain village that was now their home. The sun porch that had once housed Sydney's bonsai collection had been reclaimed when the greenhouse had been completed, the kitchen modernized with larger windows to allow the sunlight greater access, and even a guest house constructed in the hopes that the day would come when Jarod's parents and family would be found and want to visit. Jarod had discovered he had a real talent for architectural design, and the next addition to the house had been connected office and work areas for the three professionals among them. The entire estate had subsequently been spotlighted in an architectural digest the following year, bringing in design job offers by the score.

One of the first joint projects that Sydney and Jarod engaged in once they had settled down was a modified version of the seratonin treatment for Angelo. The result of the new attempt at chemical and stimulus manipulation had been an increased ability to communicate verbally and better social skills — although still leaving the little man empathic enough that he functioned best when only the five of them were around. Still quite child-like in so many ways, Angelo doted on Timmy, idolized Jarod, showered Parker with small gifts of flowers or small things that he'd made, and unabashedly followed Sydney around like a puppy. He'd learned to enjoy the out of doors after a lifetime of finding freedom only in small ventilation ducts, and one of his favorite pastime when not with Timmy or Sydney was sitting in the middle of the grass of the huge back yard on a sunny day staring up at the majestic Rockies.

Sydney, eventually finding his forced retirement incredibly boring except when his skill with Angelo was needed, had contacted his old alma maters and acquired new copies of his old diplomas — which had been originally issued under his real last name — and then applied for and acquired a license to practice psychiatry in Colorado. He now spent three mornings a week at a regional mental health center seeing a select group of patients. Between the three professional stipends and the monthly dividend payments from the investments, there was more than enough income to support the five of them.

Best of all, however, was that they were genuinely happy together as a tightly knit nuclear family. With his three favorite charges back in his life to stay and the source of all their grief removed from the picture, Sydney's health finally stabilized and his tendency to slip into a deep depression over what he still rued as his past mistakes slowly ebbed. He had been overjoyed although unsurprised when Jarod and Parker had announced that they intended to marry not long after settling down, and Parker suspected it might well have been a very private wish of his all along. Less than two weeks after the wedding, Jarod and Parker Charles had initiated adoption proceedings and made Timmy legally their son, changing the boy's last name from Parker to Charles and eliminating even that relic of Centre history from their midst.

Married life had agreed with Parker Charles, much to her surprise — but the road to satisfaction had proven anything but smooth and placid. She and Jarod still bickered and fought the way they always had — they both were strong-willed and independent people with definite ideas about how the world should work, ideas that clashed diametrically more often than not. The arguments were saved for after Timmy was safely in bed and then carefully removed to a remote part of the house where the sleeping boy would never hear the raised voices, however. The tumultuous marriage worked because they loved each other with as much passion as they argued with each other — and because they both made a point of letting the love win out in the end.

Only twice had Sydney's advice been needed to resolve a dispute between them. The last time, after hours spent helping them find middle ground on which they could compromise, the older man had finally put on a thoroughly frustrated parental attitude of his own and proceeded to chew them both out royally for having upset Angelo so badly with the emotional spillage from their spat. Both had felt sufficiently chastened by the time he was finished that all of the arguments that had come since then had been much milder, with both parties far more willing to seek an early compromise after making sure their point of view had been adequately expressed. Neither wanted to needlessly distress their childhood friend — and neither wanted to face another tongue lashing from their adopted father ever again.

"Ah-HAH! Caught you on your feet again! You need to sit down and take care of my grandchild," Sydney spoke behind her, making her turn sharply in surprise. "You know what the doctor said about your being active too much now…"

"What do you think you're doing, sneaking up on people and giving them heart attacks? Here and I thought you were outside taking care of your bushes," she replied, walking the few steps toward him and into his arms for the kind of sheltering and paternal hug she had yet to grow tired of and still occasionally craved desperately. "I swear, I can't get away with anything anymore with you watching over me like a hawk…"

"Angelo decided it was his turn to do the trimming," Sydney told her with an amused grin, "and I figured it was time to see whether he's learned the process well enough to handle the job alone once in a while. Besides, my knees don't take climbing up on those ladders half as well as they used to — if he likes to do that part of it, I can be content. As for my watching over you…" he spread a big hand across her stomach, "…SOMEbody has to keep an eye on you when Jarod's not around to make you behave. How is your little boarder today, by the way?"

"VERY active," she replied as she felt a healthy kick land directly beneath where his palm was spread, and she glanced up in time to see the delighted smile light his face. "Anxious to play with his or her Grandpa, I'd say."

"No less anxious than Grandpa is, I assure you," he responded, dropping a kiss onto her forehead and then gently but firmly leading her back to her extra-comfortable chair behind her desk. "Off your feet," he ordered fondly and waited patiently until she had eased herself back into the cushioned leather. "I was thinking of making myself some tea. Would you like some of your herbal mix?"

"I'd love some," she sighed and pushed the contract back into its folder and closed the cover over it. "I'm getting tired of trying to think my way through stock options and controlling interests today, and Junior has been trying out for the Olympics Gymnastics team and has been practicing place kicking with my bladder." She rose to her feet again and raised a defensive hand at the exasperated look on his face. "Time out, Syd! I'm just going to follow you into the kitchen. I'll sit down again once we're there, I promise."

Sydney relented and waited patiently for her to slip her hand into the bend of his elbow before walking with her down the hallway toward the open and airy kitchen. "I just don't want you to go into labor before Jarod gets back," he worried at her and patted her hand as they walked. "He's the one who has been practicing all those fancy child birthing techniques with you…"

"There isn't much to it. You just remind me to concentrate on my breathing and focus — and try not to let me hyperventilate," she told him indulgently. "But I've got a whole month to go yet, so I'm sure you're not going to have to worry about having to pinch hit as a birthing coach for us in the next few hours."

"I'm still not taking any chances," Sydney warned her and handed her into a kitchen chair before heading to the stove to put the heat on under the teakettle. "Jarod's also the one with the medical experience — I'm not ready to deliver my own grandchild either."

She chuckled softly. "Relax, I may be feeling bruised internally, but I'm not ready to drop this kid in a mud puddle — not yet, anyway." She watched him putter in the kitchen for a while, and then turned so she could look out the picture window that laid the spectacular scenery of their mountain vista. "I'm just distracted today — what can I tell you?"

"That's understandable," he replied, kettle on the fire and mugs with teabags waiting on the nearby counter leaving him the time to join her at the table. "It's now officially over. Raines is behind bars for the rest of his life, Lyle is awaiting the electric chair for the serial murder cases and would be behind bars for the rest of his life with Raines anyway otherwise, and the Centre property has been sold and added to the settlement…"

"No, this is different," she shook her head. "Something's on the horizon…"

"That's called childbirth, Parker," Sydney laughed at her heartily, "and it isn't on the horizon, it's virtually at your doorstep."

"Cuuuuuuute, Freud. Cute, but wrooooong horizon…" she laughed back.

"Jarod's coming home," he tried again, running a finger under his nose and trying to stop chuckling.

"You're getting warmer, but that's not it either," she shook a finger at him. "This is something completely different. I can feel it."

The hairs on the back of Sydney's neck rose — it had been years since he'd heard her sounding so much like her mother speaking of her inner sense. "Good or bad?" he asked, suddenly very sober.

She looked about her and then threw her hands wide as she shook her head. "Hell, I'm not sure." She could see the look of concern on Sydney's face and reached out to take his hand in hers. "Relax, Syd — I'm not feeling impending doom, if that helps any."

"This isn't something to laugh at, Parker," Sydney chided seriously. "You haven't had your inner sense sit up and take notice of much of anything for a very long time."

"I'm not laughing, but I'm not shivering in my boots either." She squeezed the hand she held. "Maybe it IS just that the baby will be coming soon. It's the sense of…" She expelled a breath and shrugged. "I can't explain it. There's a sense of excitement and anticipation — and a little apprehension — all wadded up and mixed up together."

"I'll be glad when Jarod gets back," Sydney grumbled and rose to his feet the moment the teakettle began to make noises like it was beginning to whistle. "I never feel very secure unless our entire group is right here — especially now."

"Still feeling insecure after all this time?" she asked gently. "You said it yourself — Raines and Lyle are locked away where they'll never see daylight again. The Triumvirate is bankrupt and out of business. There's nobody after us for anything…"

"I know," he nodded, carefully filling the two tea mugs and then carrying them back to the table. "But I've found it hard to forget a lifetime of having paranoia be the only thing that kept me alive and functional." He gazed at her fondly, hardly knowing how to express how precious these moments with her were to him. "Especially now that I have you and the baby to keep safe while Jarod's away."

"You do keep me safe, Sydney," she soothed, leaning forward as much as her stomach would let her and grasping his hand with both of hers now. "We do fine — we're OK."

"But there's something in the air…" he grumbled and toyed with his tea bag with his free hand.

"We just need to keep on our toes," she patted his hand and then rested back in her chair and began dunking her teabag to finish the steeping process. "Things are changing."

oOoOo

"This for you and baby," Angelo broke the silence of the mid-afternoon, coming into her office with his hand extended.

Parker looked up and smiled softly at the bouquet of wildflowers that he was holding out to her, with their ends already tucked safely into a small, glass vase. "Thank you, Angelo," she exclaimed as she accepted the gift and buried her nose in the middle of a small wild daisy. "How pretty."

"Sister not worry," he said as he shuffled back and forth from foot to foot with pleasure at making her smile. "Change is good."

Parker's eyebrow, no longer quite so meticulously sculptured but still as expressive as always, levitated suddenly. "Do you know what kind of change?" she asked, putting the cheery vase down in front of a framed family portrait that they had taken a few months earlier — before her pregnancy had started to show so much.

"Necessary," was all that Angelo would say before turning and scuttling out the office doorway.

"If I still had an ulcer," she grumbled in mild frustration at where he'd gone, then sighed and glanced up at the clock on the wall. Timmy would be home soon — Mrs. Anderson had promised that she'd be delivering children after letting them play at the park for a while after preschool, and that usually meant he'd be home just in time to be begging snacks close enough to suppertime to take the edge off of his appetite. Sydney would be home soon too, and that would mean that Jarod would be home soon too.

Indeed, the sound of a vehicle engine began to vibrate through the glass — and it was the sound of Sydney's new town car. Already she could hear Angelo's pleased cry of welcome. She hoisted herself back to her feet heavily and walked as quickly as she thought she could get away with through the house toward the kitchen door.

She homed in on the only face she wanted to see right then — a face that looked over in her direction as she came through the doorway and broke into a huge and relieved smile. Jarod dropped his black canvas duffel bag on the kitchen floor and opened his arms to his very pregnant wife to gather her close. "God I missed you!" he exclaimed into her hair, then bent to give her the kind of kiss he'd been waiting for over a day to deliver before dropping a hand to her stomach as the baby kicked at him heartily. "And you too, imp," he told his child indulgently, and then stepped back just a little bit. "By the way, I brought you a present," he told her mysteriously.

"Oh?" she asked in surprise. "From Delaware?"

"Only coincidentally," he replied cryptically and then stepped aside so she could get her first look at the third man who had come into the kitchen behind Sydney — a man who first smiled at her shyly and then gaped when he caught sight of her condition.

"Miss Parker!" Sam exclaimed softly.

"My God!" she cried softly and walked over to her old bodyguard slowly, as if barely believing her eyes. Then she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him as if he'd always been a dear friend, making the poor man blush desperately before he put a very cautious hand at her back to hug her gently in return. Then she backed off slightly and gaped at him. "Where on earth did Jarod find you…"

"He found ME after the verdict was read," Jarod explained with a satisfied grin that he exchanged with Sydney. "He'd…"

"I'd tried to talk to Jarod when he was back there giving testimony," Sam explained quickly, touched at the reception he'd been given. "The feds wouldn't let me get close to him. This time, I followed him to his hotel and then caught up to him in the airport. All I wanted to know was that you and the doc were OK. But he talked me into coming along, saying that you'd never believe him if he just told you he'd seen me."

"He's right," she agreed with a knowing look at her husband. "He knew that I'd probably dig out my old Smith and Wesson if he didn't at least give me a phone number so I could talk to you myself…" She took her guest by the hand and pulled him in the direction of the table. "Come over here so I can sit down before either of these two can start nagging at me to get off my feet — and then you can tell me what happened to you after I talked to you on the phone."

"I can't think of much of anything that would make her happier than this," Sydney told Jarod in a stage whisper.

"I remembered how hard she took the idea that she'd never see or speak to him again," Jarod explained, bending down for his duffel bag while eyeing his wife with a soft smile. "When I saw Sam walking toward me, I just knew that the one thing that would make her day would be for her to see him again – to see that he was OK and had survived the Centre being taken down."

"She was just telling me that she had a hunch that things were changing. Maybe she was just getting a quiet warning that Sam was on his way…"

"Let's hope," Jarod stated, his brow furling a little in concern. "I don't like it when her inner sense starts to kick up…"

"Neither do I, son," Sydney agreed. "Neither do I."

At that moment, the front door slammed and Timmy called through the house, "Mommy! I'm home!"

"In here, baby," Parker called back, and then turned a smile on a very astonished Sam. "Jarod and I adopted my little brother almost two years ago."

The former bodyguard looked relieved. "I was going to say that if Jarod had… you were… before you took off…"

"What?" she indulged his relieved indignation, "you would have punched him? Timmy's almost five, Sam. There's no way…" She turned as the child ran noisily through the house toward her voice. "You don't need to sound like a whole herd of elephants, you know," she called out.

Timmy rounded the doorway of the kitchen and skidded to a quick stop in surprise, and then cried, "DADDY!" before bouncing the two paces and up into Jarod's arms.

"Hey there you," the Pretender hugged his son tightly. "I wanted to tell you how much I appreciated your taking such good care of your mom for me while I was gone."

"Grandpa and Uncle Angelo helped," the little boy admitted, although the praise had him grinning from ear to ear. "You going away again soon?"

Jarod shook his head firmly. "Nope. I'm home for a good long time now." He turned so that the child in his arms could see that they had a guest. "And I'd like you to say hello to Sam. He's an old friend of your Mommy's."

"Hi," Timmy gave the stranger a small and shy wave.

"Hello there," Sam replied with a friendly smile. "So you take care of your Mom. That used to be my job – did you know that?"

"You did?" Timmy stared at the big man sitting at his kitchen table. "Long ago?"

"A very long time ago," Sam agreed with a chuckle and a glance at his former boss. "Angelo's here too?"

She nodded. "I couldn't leave him behind."

"What about Broots?"

"He and his daughter live in California now. Deb's in junior high, and he works for Intel. They were here to see us this past summer"

Sam nodded in response, obviously finding the news about his former coworkers of some relief. Jarod could see that the former sweeper did indeed understand his wife and her attachments much better than he'd thought possible — perhaps even sharing them to some extent. No wonder Sam had been so insistent on knowing she was OK – and no wonder she'd been so bereft at having to say goodbye to him.

"What about you?" Parker demanded, a hand landing gently on his arm. "What are you doing now? You're working?"

"I was," he told her, "but standing in a security kiosk at ungodly hours of the night isn't my idea of a good career move. I quit that one just before Raines and Lyle were sentenced, in case I could track Jarod down and find out if he knew where you'd gotten to…" He sighed. "Ya know, even though I'm glad I don't work for the Centre anymore, I kinda miss it."

"So you're in between jobs right now?" she asked, making sure she'd heard correctly. He nodded. "Where are you staying?"

"I'm looking into a room at the Rainbow Inn in town," he said with a smile. "Depending on how long I end up staying."

"You don't have any family back there…?" She stopped when his head shook firmly.

"I don't have any family, period," he told her flatly. "It was one of the requirements for sweepers that we have no families to come asking questions."

"What are you thinking, Parker?" Jarod asked curiously. It was obvious that she had thought of something — something that depended upon his not having any ties to Delaware that would pull him home.

"I'm thinking that Deke just retired, and Joe might be in the market for a new deputy," she looked up at her husband. "As Sam's former boss at a security-related job, I could put in a good word for him…" She looked back at her former sweeper. "It's quiet out here, Sam, and it's a huge territory. And, to be honest…" she smiled, "it would be nice to have you to bump into now and then again." Sam just sat there for a moment, shaking his head. "What?" she asked finally, with a touch of her old impatience in her voice.

"I'm just stunned, that's all," the sweeper stated finally. "Jarod convinced me to fly out here with him on the spur of the moment, then bullied the ticket lady until she gave me a ticket on his flight right then and there. And now you're saying…"

"You want to go home," Parker said softly and with disappointment.

"Not at all!" Sam looked up in astonishment. "I'm just having a great deal of trouble getting used to having my life picked up and turned inside out and backwards all of a sudden." Very carefully he put his hand on top of the one she still had on his arm. "I've missed you — all of you. I've been a little lost since that day you called. I think I just got unlost — and it's taking me a minute to get used to the idea."

"Sam gonna stay with us for a while?" Timmy asked Jarod quietly.

"Looks that way," Jarod nodded, and then smiled at his wife, who beamed up at him.

oOoOo

Joe Merrill was a tall and lanky sheriff with a droll sense of humor. Parker Charles' call that autumn morning came out of the clear blue sky — but within minutes, she had him looking forward to meeting this former associate of hers from that Centre place back East. Jarod drove Sam into town that afternoon, and Joe knew immediately that this was the man he'd want to replace Deke Johnston. Within a week, Sam was decked out in a sheriff officer's uniform and bouncing around the region with an experienced partner in a county Jeep. In a week and a half, he'd moved into town and rented a room at the Inn so he wouldn't have to depend on Jarod or Sydney to get him to work on time. Joe found the quiet sturdiness of the former Centre bodyguard a real addition to his small squad of deputies, and Sam knew that he'd found his calling at last.

Three weeks slipped quietly by. Parker Charles had closed up her office in town, as her husband had been wanting, and now waited on pins and needles for the birth of her child. Sydney and Jarod made sure that one of them was at the house at all times, so that a quick drive into the regional medical center when the time came would be within reason. Angelo had begun to shadow Parker, always being in the room when she wanted help to get out of a chair or to reach something that her stomach put out of reach. He'd taken to calling her 'Sister' in the last few months — and Parker found herself wondering, not for the first time, if the DNA test that she'd had run at the Centre had been waylaid and the results tampered with.

So it was that Parker and Sydney were in the kitchen, Parker stationed at the table slicing up salad vegetables and Sydney stirring a pan of gravy, when Angelo left Timmy on his swing outside and walked into the house. "They're here," he told Parker quietly and looked toward the front door.

Parker looked at Sydney, who then raised his head at the sound of an approaching vehicle down their long drive. He looked down into startled and apprehensive grey eyes. "Stay here," he warned his foster daughter with a pointing finger. "Let me handle this."

"Sydney…"

"Sit down, Parker!" he barked at her sharply, surprising her enough with the strength of the demand that her backside slid right back down onto the kitchen chair. He looked over at the empath. "Angelo…"

"No danger," Angelo was shaking his head. "Welcome."

The doorbell rang through the house. Sydney shook his finger at his daughter again as he headed toward the door, but Parker was in no mood to be left behind. The moment her foster father was out of sight, her hand flew out to Angelo to get the extra lift to pull her out of her chair quickly. She was halfway down the hall when she heard the door open and Sydney pull in a deep gasp of surprise. Then she stepped up behind him and saw who was standing on her doorstep.

"Ethan!" She pushed past Sydney and walked into her half-brother's arms.

"Miss Parker," Ethan cradled his half-sister tenderly. "I knew we'd find you someday."

"I thought I told you to stay put," Sydney grumbled as he closed the door.

"Angelo said there was no danger, Syd," she justified, leaning her head on Ethan's shoulder. "How did you find…? What are you doing here? I thought you were staying with Major Charles."

"I am," he told her gently.

Parker pushed back to look him in the face. "You mean they're here?"

He nodded. "They wanted to wait in the car, in case Jarod wasn't… they didn't know the lay of the land, and they're still a little on the careful side…"

"JAROD!" Parker bellowed, then turned anxiously to Sydney. "My God, Sydney, go get him!" she directed him frantically. Sydney nodded and headed off toward the office addition to the house at a dead run while Parker pushed at Ethan. "Go wave them in, for goodness sake! They don't need to wait in the car — they're more than welcome here!"

Ethan smiled and moved to the front door, opened it and gestured for the people sitting in the minivan to join him. Parker watched from behind him as first Major Charles emerged from behind the steering wheel, the back door opened and both Emily and the boy once known as Gemini clambered out. And then the passenger door opened. "My God," Parker breathed, a hand on Ethan's shoulder from behind. "They found her."

"What's the matter?" Jarod's voice echoed through the house along with the pounding of his feet against the floorboards. He had soon found his wife and moved to join her swiftly. "Parker, what?" Then he saw the face of the man next to her. "Ethan?" he asked incredulously.

"Look, Jarod," Parker pointed out the open door at the knot of people walking toward them. Jarod moved up behind her and peered over her shoulder, and Parker could feel him sway against her back in shock.

"Dad?" he said very quietly, and then caught sight of the woman who walked beside his father hand in hand. "MOM?"

Parker turned and propelled him out the door toward his family and then watched as both parents hesitated in amazement and then were swept up into a tight embrace that soon included Emily and the younger version of Jarod. "He's been looking for them for years," she told her half-brother. "He'd almost given up."

"I think he's had other things on his mind lately," Ethan smiled at her and gently patted the bulge that was her unborn child. "Jarod's?" he asked softly, and then nodded at her nod. "I figured that was how things were."

Jarod finally had embraced all four of the newcomers and was drawing them toward the house. Ethan fell back, leaving Parker in the doorway to greet her guests. "Mom, Dad, this is Parker…" he paused with a fond smile as he moved next to her, "…my wife."

Major Charles' craggy face split into a cautious smile. "Miss Parker," he nodded at her graciously. "May I introduce my wife, Margaret."

"We've met, although briefly," Margaret said quietly, extending her hand. "Miss Parker."

"Please, come in," Parker motioned to the entire group to come through the door.

Major Charles hesitated as the younger pair approached. "You've met Jason, I hear…"

"It's good to see you again," Parker told the young man who looked so much like her Jarod had years ago.

"It's good to see you again, Miss Parker." Jason smiled shyly at the woman who was the very first person to treat him with kindness and respect.

"And this is my daughter, Emily."

"Hello," Parker shook hands with the pretty girl who had Jarod's eyes. "I'm glad to meet you at last." Now it was her turn to do the introductions. "This is my foster father, Sydney Grüen," she indicated the psychiatrist who had stood back from the ado, "and my adopted brother Angelo. Our son Timmy is out…"

"Mommy, we gots visitors…" Timmy thundered from his room and skidded to a halt at the sight of so many new people. He glanced to his father nervously. "Daddy?"

"Timmy," Jarod was all smiles, "This is your Grandma and Grandpa — Daddy's parents — and your Aunt Emily and Uncle Jason and Uncle Ethan."

Margaret was staring. "We didn't think you'd already have…" She looked up at Parker. "How long have you been together?"

"Two years, almost," Parker answered, understanding the confusion. "We adopted Timmy not long after we married. I'll tell you that part of the story a little later." Margaret nodded, understanding a mother's wish to protect her children.

"Sydney." Major Charles had his hand out to his son's former mentor. "It's good to see you again."

"And you, Major. It's a delight to see you so fit." Sydney answered, shaking the man's hand firmly and then nodding at the petite woman with silver and red hair standing next to him. "Mrs. Charles…"

"You're the Sydney who raised my son, aren't you?" the older woman asked point-blank.

"Yes, I am," Sydney answered blandly, drawing Parker's eyes and a surge of protectiveness that made her sway. If Jarod's mother was going to make trouble for Sydney, she was going to find herself with an angry beached whale in her face…

"Sister need to sit," Angelo blurted, his eyes never leaving Parker's face. "Too much excitement."

"God, Parker, are you OK?" Jarod was instantly solicitous and at his wife's side.

"I'm fine, but Angelo's right — I need to sit down." Parker leaned on Jarod and then had Sydney at her other side, supporting her.

She clung to Sydney as Jarod situated her in her favorite chair, and then the Pretender gestured to the rest of his family. "Please, be seated. Can I get you anything?"

"We weren't sure if it was safe when we saw you with that Centre sweeper, son," Major Charles explained finally, perched precariously on the couch next to his wife. "Ethan said that he'd follow you and see where you went — and we flew out after discussing it. You've been very successful at keeping yourself well-hidden here — so we were surprised to see sweepers still around."

"We aren't hiding," Jarod said simply, shaking his head. "The Centre is finished and the Triumvirate too. We LIVE here now — we, the three of us, all have our professional careers here right out in the open." He patted Parker's hand. "Parker is a corporate law consultant and mediator, Sydney is back to being a plain old shrink, and I've been working in architectural design."

"The sweeper you saw was my former personal sweeper," Parker explained quickly. "He found Jarod about the same time you did, only he talked to him at the airport. Jarod knew how much I wanted to see him, so…"

"He's still around?" Emily looked nervous.

"He's a friend of ours," Parker answered quietly. "He's a sheriff's deputy now. You've nothing to worry about from Sam."

Margaret had been studying Parker closely for a while and noticed that she grimaced slightly. "How soon are you having your baby?"

"Anytime now," Jarod announced proudly. "Her official due date is in about a week, but…"

"You live a long way from help if something should happen," the Major chimed in with a frown of concern.

"We've timed it — I know all the short cuts like the back of my hand," Jarod shook his head and put a comforting hand on Parker's shoulder while still supporting his son in his arms. "We can get from here to the regional medical center in about thirty minutes."

"You know, I think Jarod deserves some time to get to know his family again," Parker stated quietly, "and I need to check the larder to see whether I need to send Sydney into town for supplies for a bigger dinner than originally planned." She let Jarod help her get to her feet, and then kissed him on the cheek before waving at the rest of the Charles family. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me. Enjoy your reunion."

Sydney exchanged a knowing look with Jarod. "I think I'd better stay with her," he told the Pretender and rose to put a hand at her elbow.

"Why don't you go wash up after all your playtime outside?" Jarod told his son as he put the boy down, and Timmy trotted obediently from the living room. Angelo cast a smile at the strangers sitting in his living room and then followed Sister and Sydney.

oOoOo

If it weren't for the fact that Sydney would have scolded her worriedly for being on her feet too much, Parker would have been pacing the floor of the kitchen. Angelo had been dispatched with a glance to keep Timmy occupied and entertained so that Sydney could deal privately with whatever Parker was going through. He had prepared her a mug of her herbal tea, which was now cold and abandoned in front of her. He had rubbed her back and shoulders, something that had often taken the edge from her tension.

As it was, nothing he had tried had worked for long. Several paper napkins had been twisted, mangled, mauled and eventually tossed in the general direction of the wastebasket, all while Sydney waited quietly and patiently for the explosion that was sure to come. The longer it took to arrive, the more difficult he feared it would be to put down — but there was no way that he would trigger the explosion himself.

"This is it," she stated finally in a voice that shook.

"This is what?" he asked calmly, hoping that his serenity might be just a little contagious.

"They're here," she pointed out, a finger stretched out in the direction of the living room. "And they're going to want him to go back with them."

Sydney shook his head. "You don't know that, Parker," he soothed, extending a hand to her. "They just got here — and of course they're glad to see him and want to spend time with him."

The baby inside her took that opportunity to give a huge kick that felt like it threatened to break the skin under a rib. "I'm going to lose him," she worried, her voice shaking just a little more. "I knew this would happen if he ever found his parents. I mean — his MOTHER is here, for God's sake! There was nothing he wanted more than to find her for years, Syd…"

"Parker, Jarod loves you," Sydney tightened his hold on her. "He loves Timmy and he loves your child, and he's looking forward so much to your having that baby and bringing it home. He's not going anywhere, sweetheart."

"But this is the way it happens, Sydney," she countered with tears she could no longer contain streaming down her cheeks. "Everyone I love is taken away from me just at the moment when I can almost taste the happily-ever-after."

"Not everyone… I'm not going anywhere," he pointed out with raised brows.

"You know what I mean," she came back with a frown. "How am I going to raise two small children without Jarod, Sydney?"

He shook his head at her. "You're not going to have to raise them without Jarod, Parker. He's not going to walk out and leave you carrying his child or with a newborn baby. Listen to yourself! This is your fear speaking, and you know this. Calm down before you talk yourself into an early labor…"

"Sydney, I'm afraid." She had a hand to her mouth to try to restrain the sobs that were tearing at her to get out, and she reached out to him with the other desperately. "Oh God, what am I going to do now?"

He rose and moved to her side swiftly, putting his arms around her shoulders and holding her tightly to him. "It's going to be OK, Parker, hush!" His hand stroked her hair and her back as he bent over her.

Timmy, having escaped Angelo with the excuse of going to the bathroom, took one look at his Mommy sobbing in his Grandfather's arms and turned around. He walked into the living room and up to his father's side and tugged on Jarod's trousers. Jarod looked down at the tug and noted the expression of worry on his little boy's face. "Mommy's crying and Grandpa can't get her to stop. Daddy, please come."

Jarod looked at his parents and siblings, all of whom had stunned looks on their faces, and said, "This is important. I need to…"

"Go see to your wife, Jarod," Major Charles told his oldest son without hesitation, feeling the complaint rising in his wife and putting a hand on her arm to stifle it. "She's in no condition to be upset for very long."

"I think I'll come too," Ethan said to everyone present as he rose from his seat next to Emily. "She's my sister too. If something's wrong…"

Jarod merely nodded permission and headed off in the direction of the kitchen, moving as fast as he could without running. Ethan easily kept pace. Timmy, left behind with a roomful of strangers, stared at the people his Daddy said were a Grandma and Grandpa with no small amount of trepidation. Before any of the adults could say a word, the dark-haired little boy had turned and run away toward the kitchen as fast as his legs could carry him.

The Pretender's face folded into concern as he began to hear the strength of his wife's sobbing, and he burst into the kitchen and nodded at Sydney that he was taking over the job of trying to give comfort. "Sweetheart, Jarod's here," the older man bent and whispered at his frantic daughter. "I think you need to listen to him."

"Parker?" Jarod had his hand on her knee and was kneeling in front of her chair before Sydney had moved completely away. "What's going on here?" He glanced up into his old mentor's eyes, and Sydney simply nodded — and he knew. It was the same old fear that had kept them apart for so long rearing its ugly head again. "You have to stop this, honey — this isn't good for you or the baby," he shushed at her.

"I'm going to lose you, aren't I?" she asked softly, her eyes swimming with tears.

"Come on, Timmy," Sydney said as he bent and picked up his grandson. "Let's let Daddy talk to Mommy and get her calmed down again, shall we?" He gave Ethan a sharp look that said clearly that he thought that Jarod and Parker needed privacy to talk things out. Ethan nodded and turned to follow Sydney back out into the main part of the house.

"You're not going to lose me, Parker," Jarod soothed, wrapping his arms around his wife, holding her close and rocking her back and forth gently. "I told you a long time ago, and I'm telling you again: you are my life and my future. This is OUR CHILD," he reminded her, using his hand to guide one of hers to her belly. "You don't honestly think that I'd walk away from my own flesh and blood, do you?"

"What about them?" she insisted with a catch in her voice, the tears still flowing. "What if they don't want to go back to their home without you?"

"Then I guess they'll be moving into the spare house, because there's no way in Hell they could talk me into leaving you now," he kissed her cheek and forehead. "I know that you've been worried about what would happen when or if we found them. But I thought I'd managed to get you to trust me a little more than this."

Slowly she was calming – finding that with Jarod's arms around her and his reassurances in her ears, she could almost be convinced to believe that the jinx that had followed her from her youth might have actually been broken. "I'm sorry," she said finally, very softly. "I didn't mean to interrupt…"

"Parker!" Jarod called to her and put her face between his hands in order to emphasize his words, "You have nothing to apologize for. I've had a hunch that we'd be revisiting this in a situation like this one sooner or later – but I was hoping that you wouldn't get yourself quite so upset. Now," he kissed her nose and loosened his hold on her, "I think you need to come back into the living room with me. I don't want you to start imagining what's being said in there and get yourself all torqued out of shape again."

"Your family must think me a manipulative and possessive woman," she shook her head. "I don't know that I can face them after this."

"Nonsense," Jarod soothed. "Besides, you can put the blame on the baby and the fact that you're just about ready to pop. Your emotions have been a little haywire for a while now."

"Thanks a lot," she groaned. "Not only am I a beached whale, but an emotionally unstable one."

"Hey there! I happen to be in love with beached whales," Jarod grinned mischievously at her, "one beached whale in particular. Don't you be dissing the object of my affection, or I'll sic my wife on you!" She stared at him, her mind spinning at the ridiculous nature of his exclamation, and then she giggled. "There, that's better," he smiled at her. "Come on now, let me give you a hand getting up…"

"Uh…" Parker put her hand in that of her husband and would have risen, but she suddenly felt something strange give, and now she was more than aware of the sensation of wetness that was soaking her clothing. "Jarod… the baby…"

Those dark chocolate eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"I'm soaked, Pez-head – you're damned right I'm sure."

"SYDNEY!"

oOoOo

The knot of people stood on the veranda of the main house, watching as the four-wheel drive vehicle disappeared over the top of a knoll on its way to the medical center. "Mommy's gonna be OK, isn't she?" Timmy worried at his Grandpa Sydney from his post in the older man's arms.

"She'll be fine," Sydney reassured the little boy, "and when she comes home, you'll have a new little brother or sister to help take care of."

"We certainly chose an interesting time to come and visit," Emily commented to her parents.

"Well, while Jarod is occupied, do you think you could recommend an inn or a motel in the area that we can stay at?" Major Charles asked Sydney. "We don't want to impose here, especially with everything all topsy-turvy…"

"You don't need to go back into town," Sydney shook his head. "Jarod provided for you all in the event that you found each other." He pointed to the house on the other end of the property. "He had that place built for you, so that you'd have a place to stay if you ever came." He shifted Timmy in his arms. "If you'll give me a minute, I'll get you the key."

"A house of our own?" Jason was ecstatic. "How cool is that!"

"David! I can't believe it," Margaret shook her head with wide blue eyes. "After all this time…"

"You have to understand," Major Charles remarked at the confused look in his son's mentor's eyes, "we weren't quite as brave as you. We've been living on the run, never staying very long in one place, for well over a year – well, all of us but Emily, who has her job in Philadelphia still. This," he pointed at the house Sydney had indicated was for their use, "is as close as we've come to having a home of our own for…" He exchanged glances with his wife, "…a good many years. Even if we wanted to settle down, we don't have the resources…"

"It really isn't my place to say so," Sydney told them quietly, "but that isn't a problem for you anymore either. Jarod and Parker put aside in your names a sizeable amount of money from the settlement against the Centre. It's been gathering interest for over a year, waiting for you."

Margaret looked at the Belgian challengingly. "And this doesn't bother you?"

Sydney merely blinked at her and then turned to the child in his arms. "Timmy, I need to talk to your other Grandma and Grandpa about grown-up things right now. I need you to go find Angelo and see if you two can figure out what we're all going to have for supper tonight." Still not entirely sure that these new people were good news or bad in his life, Timmy shot Major Charles and Jason a thoroughly distrustful look and then trotted off obediently in search of his favorite Uncle. No longer constrained by the understanding of a small child, Sydney returned the challenging expression at Margaret. "Why should Jarod's making arrangements to take care of his family when he found them bother me?"

Surprise, she stood her ground. "You stole him from us — you raised him…"

"Peg!" The Major tugged on her arm. "Really…"

Sydney shook his head and waved away the Major's defense. "She has a reasonable point of view under the circumstances, Major. Mrs. Charles, I know you may not believe this, but I had nothing to do with stealing Jarod. I did, however, raise him with a certain set of personal ethics — one of which would be to take care of those he cares about. Frankly I would be upset if he HADN'T made these arrangements."

"What about her?" Margaret insisted. "How does she feel about everything he's done?"

"She approved and helped him all along the way. But the thought of you ever reappearing in Jarod's life has had her terrified," Sydney answered truthfully, shocking the woman as he'd hoped to. "She knows how much finding you folks means to Jarod and would never deprive him of knowing his family. But because of the way HER life has been, she's terrified that you'll take what he's done for you, figure it still isn't enough, and demand that he return to your family circle. She's certain that he'll leave her the moment you people crook your little finger and ask him to."

"She thinks we'd steal him away from his new baby?" Emily gaped. "What kind of monsters does she take us for?"

"She took me for the kind of monster that would have shot her mother," Major Charles reminded his daughter. "For all I know, she STILL believes…"

"She knows better," Sydney shook his head. "Leave it to say that she knows the truth about her mother's fate." He gazed at Ethan. "You know this too, I assume."

Margaret couldn't help but think of the full welcome Parker had extended to them just before retiring to the kitchen, where she'd evidently fallen to pieces. It hadn't been a show of manipulation — she'd genuinely been frantic. Perhaps she'd been wrong about all these people all along. "Does she make him happy, Sydney?" she asked finally.

The psychiatrist nodded. "I've known Jarod a long time, Mrs. Charles, through good times and very bad ones. I can say without a doubt that he's been happier these past two years with her then I've ever seen him – and he's been so excited about the baby coming..."

"It would give him a family of his own at last," Jason spoke up quietly, voicing what he knew would be his older brother's – his clone's – thoughts. "Even if he never found us again, he wouldn't be without."

"Is Timmy theirs — Miss Parker's and Jarod's?" Major Charles couldn't prevent himself from asking the question any longer.

"Officially, Timmy was the son of Mr. Parker and his second wife. Physiologically speaking, however, Brigitte was unable to conceive and Mr. Parker was essentially infertile. Parker wasn't even his real daughter." Sydney shrugged eloquently. "I'm sure both of them have toyed with the possibility that Timmy is theirs biologically – that he was another ploy in the Centre drive to have and keep a Pretender — but they've decided not to open that Pandora's box. They adopted him legally, making him their son in every other way, and that's all that matters to either of them now." He smiled. "Timmy's a good boy, very bright. He might as well be theirs, he's very much like they were when they were small."

"And he's scared of us," Jason stated knowingly.

"Why not? We came into his home and upset his mother and now she's off to a hospital," Emily nodded. "I think if I were a small child, those would be logical assumptions for me too."

"Do you realize what this means, Peg?" Major Charles turned to his wife. "We're grandparents – about to be made grandparents again."

Margaret stared at her husband for a moment and then looked over at the man who knew her son better, it seemed, than she did. He was being quite gracious, under the circumstances, answering each and every one of her questions or challenges with candor and honesty. It was getting harder to equate the man in front of her with the monster she'd always pictured, and the dichotomy was getting hard to tolerate. "I think I owe you an apology…" she started.

Sydney shook his head. "I know how I would feel in similar circumstances," he said with many layers of feeling, his mind touching the subject of Nicholas' upbringing very carefully as it was one of the few things that still could trigger a depression if he wasn't very careful. Neither Parker nor Jarod needed to have to help him out of an emotional hole right now. "Don't worry about it."

Margaret put out her hand. "Then can we at least declare a truce?"

"That I would be glad to do," Sydney smiled widely and grasped her hand in his. "Truce, Mrs. Charles."

"That was my husband's mother's name," she told him. "My name's Peg."

"Can we see the house now? Please?" Jason pleaded. "Are there enough bedrooms that I can have one of my own?"

Sydney could see the subtle signs of Jarod's old impatience in the young man that reminded him so much of his protégé. "Let me get that key," he chuckled.

oOoOo

Margaret gazed down into the bassinet that her husband and younger sons had made from some scrap lumber lying around in a barn in the two days since Jarod had driven Parker away in a rush. "What did you decide to name her?" she asked in a quiet voice so as not to awaken the sleeping newborn, raising the question that had been the subject of great speculation on the estate.

Parker gazed at her mother-in-law's face and knew that her new daughter had enchanted the woman. Perhaps there might yet be some common ground between them. "We're thinking of Autumn Catherine," she answered in an equally quiet voice.

"Autumn." Margaret still couldn't get enough of looking at the tiny, dark-haired scrap of life that was her own flesh and blood — Jarod's child. "That's a good name."

"She's absolutely beautiful, Parker," Sydney whispered and kissed the new mother's cheek gently. "And she's going to look just like her mother."

"Thanks, Syd," she replied, leaning into him just a little and kissing him back. "But she looks an awful lot like Jarod, if you ask me…"

"Can I see?" Timmy demanded, pushing through the legs of the adults around the cradle. He gazed with wonder at the tiny person lying among the white frills and next to a small and very soft teddy bear. There had been an awful lot of fuss about something that looked remarkably like a dolly that just lay there and did nothing interesting. "When do I get to hold her, and how soon will she be able to play with me?"

"It'll be a while before you can play with her," Jarod told his son with a grin, "but I'll bet if you ask very nicely, Mommy will let you hold her for just a little while the next time she's awake."

"The cradle's beautiful," Parker told her father-in-law with a shy smile. "I don't know how to thank you…" She gazed from Major Charles to Jason and back again.

"Don't be ridiculous, my dear," the Major exclaimed very softly, leaning in to give his daughter-in-law a gentle and unexpected hug. "It was a real treat to be able to work with my hands again – and show Jason a little bit about wood-working. I couldn't think of a better thing to give you right now. I'm glad you like it and can use it."

Parker thrilled at the affection she'd been feeling from Jarod's family ever since she'd brought her newborn home. "I'm just glad that you're all here. I didn't get to ask this before, but how long are you going to be able to stay?" she asked eagerly, hoping that she'd actually get a chance to get to know Jarod's parents a little bit before they went home.

"Actually, we were hoping to talk to you and Jarod about that a little bit," Margaret put a finger to her lips and gestured that the knot of people move away from the cradle so that the baby's sleep wouldn't be disturbed.

"Talk about what?" Jarod asked curiously. Parker had merely managed to ask the question first, and he too wanted to know how long he had to get to know his family before they would have to communicate from a distance.

"When Sydney told us about the house, you have no idea what it meant, son," Major Charles explained patiently. "We haven't had anything like a real home since you were stolen from us – and except for Emily, we've all be living life on the run until we found you. The four of us…" his finger indicated the two parents, Ethan and Jason, "talked it over, and we were wondering if you would mind very much if we stayed… here… for a while longer. Your mother and I would very much like to get to know you AND your family better, and I can't think of a better place to raise Jason…"

"You mean you're NOT going to leave?" Parker was already grinning from ear to ear.

"If you don't mind having your in-laws practically in your lap," Margaret answered cautiously.

Jarod could see Parker's delight, and he smirked with an intense sense of inward pleasure. "I think we could get used to that – what do you say, Parker?" he asked, putting an arm around his wife's waist. "I've been sharing a house with someone more like a father-in-law than a mentor for a year now — do you think you're ready to return the favor?"

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Parker said in a voice that cracked with emotion. "To have the whole family HERE… together…"

"Except me," Emily said with a delicate shrug. "Unless, of course, there's a job opening at the local newspaper…"

"You could always freelance," Jarod teased his little sister.

"Maybe I could try something in Denver – get a little closer and still maintain my independence." Emily filed the idea away and decided that when her two weeks' vacation was nearly up, she'd head to Denver a day or so early to check out the possibilities.

Jarod nuzzled his wife's ear tenderly. "Didn't I tell you that I'd never leave you?" he whispered only loud enough for her to hear. "How can I leave you for my folks if they live only a hundred yards or so from us?"

Parker leaned back against her husband's strength, feeling the bonds of family begin to swirl and connect with people she'd only feared, and was content beyond her wildest dreams. She had Sydney, she had Jarod, she had her children – and now she had no need to harbor worries about being left behind ever again.

"Grandpa David? Daddy said you make wooden planes. Can you show me?" Timmy touched his new grandfather's hand timidly, only to have the man bend and pick him up.

"Whatcha say, Uncle Ethan? Uncle Jason? Are we up to making model planes today?"

"Can I help, Dad?" Jarod asked quietly.

Major Charles turned a fond eye to his oldest son. "Absolutely. C'mon boys." He gave a nod in the direction of the front door and led most of the men of his family toward what would probably end up being his territory – his woodshop.

Margaret seated herself next to the cradle in an easy chair and let herself get comfortable. When she had agreed to come out to see what kind of situation Jarod had gotten himself into, she hadn't expected to end up where she was now. She'd come west to find her son, and not only had she found her son but she'd ended up with a beautiful new home, enough money that she need never to worry again — and a much larger family as well. Angelo, always a little shy and retiring around the newcomers, had settled down on the floor Indian-style next to the cradle and was crooning to the baby. She smiled back as he looked up into her face and smiled at her shyly. Margaret gazed down at her sleeping granddaughter, feeling her ties to Jarod tighten and strengthen and begin to include even this strange and gentle little man who said so very little. This was what this disparate and very eclectic family had needed — something to tie them all firmly together as a whole.

Parker took in a deep breath of contentment and then walked over to lean into Sydney's side. "This is all your fault, you know," she said, gazing with him across the room at her beautiful baby girl.

Sydney blinked and then put a fond arm around Parker's waist. "Sweetheart, if you hadn't noticed, that is Jarod's little girl," he told her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I had no part in that."

She groaned and punched him in the chest gently. "I mean, if it weren't for you, we wouldn't be here, like this — and I wouldn't have Autumn or Timmy. Or Jarod."

"How do you figure that?"

Her grey eyes were wide and sincere. "You got us all out of there, Sydney — you managed to do what my mother and Jacob never could. Face it, if it weren't for you hitting bottom, we wouldn't be free and all together with the Centre just a bad memory. Of course, you picked a helluva way to start things out — you know my hand has never been the same since that morning at White Cloud…" She grinned at him then and melodramatically shook out the hand that actually did still ache in very cold weather from the damage she'd inflicted on herself by punching him out in his fishing cabin a lifetime ago.

He took the hand in his gently and lifted it to his lips. "I'm just glad that when I thought I had nothing left to live for, I had two very precious people willing to convince me otherwise — even to the point of damned near breaking my jaw to save my life." He lifted his arm to around her shoulders, pulled her close and kissed a cheek gently. "I love you, Parker — I always have, and I always will."

"I love you too, Sydney."

Then he held her to him with his eyes closed, contemplating the road that had led from the depths of hell they all had endured at the Centre to the paradise he was living now. It had been a hard and bumpy passage, and there was no promise that there wouldn't be potholes and ruts in the days to come, but it had been worth it.

In the end, it had all been worth it.

_**A/N:**__ I would like to thank all my very faithful reviewers for letting me know there was still an audience for these tales. To Doranwen, Nancy, Little Parker, I Love Tea, Nans, Anna, Whashaza and Katscats, you guys are great and have made me appreciate posting my stuff to FFN again. _

_But this is the last finished Pretender tale I have to tell. The only thing I have left is a novel-length piece that I never finished - and I have lost my notes and outline to it as well as lost the muse that used to feed me Pretender stuff, so I fear it will __**never**__ be finished. If enough folks ask for it, I will post it - but it will have to be with the understanding that it __**won't ever**__ be completed (until or unless my Pretender Muse is somehow resurrected, which I really don't expect.)_

_I do continue to write fan fiction, however, but I now write for Tolkien's Lord of the Rings and Silmarillion under the authorname __**Aeärwen22**__. If any of you are at all interested in that fandom, please do come over and find me there. I'd love to see and hear from you._

_Thank you all for your amazing support over the years. _

_Sincerely,_

_MMB _


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